#like a ben and bev song so i’m posting in hopes of maybe one person starting to listen to orville peck

[soulwillower]

heart eyes • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: no ;)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), body worship!!, fluff, road trip w the losers, underage drinking, body shots, praise kink bc its me, a lil dirty talk, this one is kinda tame, its fluffy :) ALSO THIS IS SO UNEDITED SORRY

i was going through all my writing and i found this smut i wrote a while ago!! im p sure its the first smut i ever wrote n i never posted it, i figured i would rn :)

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

6.2k words lol

♡

“i mean this trip would’ve been fun, no matter what. listen! guys, i love you! and... and i fucking love that we don’t always have to be inebriated to have fun.” stan exclaims, gangly limbs sprawled on the floor as ben starts giggling. stan pays no mind, “but listen, listen. i am soooo happy that we brought this stuff though, you know?” stan continues to babble on drunkenly, eliciting giggles from all the kids in the room. he’s waving an almost empty bottle of smirnoff. you giggle softly.

thankfully, ben had actually managed to sweet talk a coworker from the diner in order to score the losers a few handles of alcohol, and you’d nearly finished off the smirnoff and all are a few hearty swigs into the bottle of strawberry burnett’s and fireball.

your cheeks are very red.

you know your cheeks are burning.

but bill’s loose arm around your waist has your skin burning even hotter. you don’t want to think of it as anything more than platonic, because with a quick glance to your right, you see his other arm holding eddie in the same fashion. you're just friends, and always have been.

bill is just a very outgoing and flirty person when drunk.  

and if you had voiced this aloud, bill denbrough would probably have had to agree. he barely felt his arm where it lay across eddie, but his arm that was cradling you feels like it is dead weight.

god, he’s got it so fucking bad for you. the conversation lulls as a familiar tune plays through the speaker, making most losers scrunch their nose and laugh. y/n and richie, as always, have other plans.

not even a measure into the song, richie screeches and pulls you into his chest, already swaying you as your alluring voices blend together as perfectly as they always do.

the two drunkenly sing together for the entire duration of the song, serenading each other in a sweet, albeit weird (in a way, bill decides, that only richie and you can achieve) fashion. the lanky boy twirls you around, and you're giggling and laughing and smiling so brightly, and the others are all smiling happily.

and bill just knows, looking from richie’s face, to stan, then mike, bev, ben, and then to eddie right next to him, that everybody in the room has just fallen a little more in love with you.

you're a fucking angel. just like heaven…

and, knowing deep down that it was highly unlikely, bill still hoped he could some day call that angel his own.

-

bill takes a moment to breathe as the seven of his best friends huddle in the weak circle they’ve formed after quite a few drinks.

the speaker plays soft music. the kind of music - you recall loudly to everyone with a smile - that ‘stanny’ plays in his own car on days in the summer when he lets you roll down the passenger side window and stick your feet out as they speed down the town roads.

“you know why-“ mike starts, interrupting himself with a hiccup. he giggles, and bill smiles. “-you know why i love you?” he says, question directed at ben. ben chuckles, face red from the contents of his near empty cup, and shrugs.

“no, wait, i’m not drunk enough for the sappy stuff.” you whine, biting your lip as you glances over to bill.

he averts his eyes, chastising himself in his head immediately after for being a little schoolboy.

“fine, y/l/n. truth or dare?” mike says with a cheeky smile. richie hollers and you scoff, shaking your head. across the room, eddie does the same.

“c’mon, mikey… i haven’t played that since sophomore year.” you say, face revealing a teasing smile which betrays your tone. bev shrugs, leaning back into ben’s chest. “dunno, could be fun.” she says.

bill watches closely as y/n sends a long look to bev, who shoots her best friend a suggestive glance.

bill wishes sometimes that he could hear beverly and y/n’s thoughts and secret conversations, but after a flash memory of the time when he walked in (after listening to silence for nearly three minutes before entering) on the two girls staring at the other in complete silence, he shivers and retracts that wish.

those girls were creepily telekinetic.

y/n’s sigh pulls bill back to earth. “fine.” you say, rolling your eyes and sounding bored. bill knew better than to believe y/n could really be bored. he stares at your body as you take a hefty swig from your cup, wiping your mouth and slurring, “truth.”

“out of all the people in this room, whose clothing style would you choose to swap with?” mike asks after some moments of silence. you look like you're thinking very, very hard and this makes bill laugh in drunken stupor. his friends shoot him a confused look, but attention quickly lies back on y/n.

“stan, maybe. or eddie bear.” y/n says, flopping into eddie’s lap, making him blush and card his fingers through your hair. “I love all those cute shorts.” you say, throwing a wink in richie’s direction.

bill has to laugh at the expression on the curly haired boy’s face. he has to admit, though, that eddie looks fucking great in those shorts. the two boys both respond idly, though, and the game continues, getting dumber and more risqué the more drinks they share.

mike admits to wearing briefs over boxers, bev admits that the first girl she kissed was y/n. ben has to jump into the broken hot tub, and eddie takes a body shot off of richie.

"bill, who do you think is the best kisser?" bev smirks, shooting a look that he doesn't understand but, on a much more transcendental level, understands too well.

"if you don't say me, i'll be mad." richie says, making kissy faces that make ben push the side of his face away with a chuckle. bill laughs lightly, but his lips move quicker than his brain. "y/n, probably."

seven pairs of eyes land on him and he blinks, face heating until he's surely a tomato. "wh-what? you a-asked." he says awkwardly, and to change the subject, stan clears his throat, "y/n's turn!"

bill shoots him a grateful look, but stan gives him a stare that screams make a move, dumbass.

"okay, dare." you mumble, cheeks slightly dark and a sweet grin on your lips.

“'kay. i dare you...” richie trails off as something catches his drunken eyesight away in the kitchen. he starts to giggle to himself, then. “take a body shot off of bill.” he says, pointing a bony finger at the innocent girl to bill’s left.

bill’s face pales at this, but the liquid courage has him pulling off his shirt at the encouragement of the others merely moments later.

“i’ve yet to take an actual body shot before.” y/n mumbles, explaining how you've always done them off shoulders or necks.

“lick, shoot, suck.” bill mumbles, staring at the ceiling. bill hears bev giggle quietly.

“don’t forget that last part, y/n.” richie piped up from across the room, the words being followed by a thud and a soft grunt.

“i couldn’t if i tried, rich.” you mumbles as your face comes into view. bill can only smirk up at you when he feels liquid pour into his navel.

“he’s gotta be flexing right now. there’s no way he’s that naturally ripped!” richie complains, his voice looted in a joke. ben laughs as bev slaps richie’s arm.

"sh-shut up, richie." bill mutters with an easy grin.

bill slips a lime wedge into his mouth and his tongue falls upon the rind, tasting the muted citrus flavor as salt is sprinkled in the stretched of his skin between his belly button and his waistband.

 if he wasn't drunk, he'd be a blushing mess.

and he has to try harder than he's ever tried for anything in his entire life to not get hard as you suddenly lean over him, your hot tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the salt.

 he suppresses a groan and then you shoot the shot from his stomach, everyone screaming and cheering and laughing. you're laughing too, and bill's shocked into a stupor by how casually and effortlessly beautiful you are.

you're leaning towards his face now, a soft smile on your face as your lips fall to pluck the lime from his mouth. but before you pull all the way back, he feels your soft lips touch his around the wedge and his whole body ignites, cheeks turning red.

but just as quickly as you were there, you're gone and he's left with the faint taste of lime and a heaving chest, the feeling of your tongue on his body ingrained into his mind.

-

it was about thirty minutes later that all the losers retreated to their rooms to pass out, bill following you a few steps behind. of course, when eddie and bev had planned the sleeping arrangements, they'd insisted that you two share a room. not that he's complaining, not at all.

bill barely gets a minute into the door before you're turning and stepping closer to him. his hands fall to your arms, in his mind as an excuse to steady you, but he knows its because he really just wants to feel you in his arms.

“do you really want to kiss me?” you purr, voice uncharacteristically quiet. and wow, that was out of left field. bill almost laughs, but refrains in case the inebriated girl in his arms took it the wrong way.  “yes, y/n. a-always.”

you beam, a slight hiccup escaping your cherry lips as you get on your tippy toes. you're still half a head shorter than him even on your tips.

his heart thumps as he takes in your beautiful features up close, and he longs to feel your lips against his.

but, instead he shakes his head gently through his drunken state. your face falls and you step back. bill swears the angel’s wings start to droop and wilt as you seem to sober up slightly. you look sad and embarrassed and bill’s heart shatters a fragment.

“y-you’re drunk.” he says lamely, wishing that own his drunk eyes would get on board with his brain and quit running over this girl’s beautiful face and enticing curves. “w-we both a-are.” he adds, biting his lip.

you huff, turning around and bending over to pull sweats out of a drawer. “okay,” you mumble and he can’t read your voice much but he can tell you're upset.

in a drunk thought, he realizes he may never fully understand you.

bill bites his lip at the sight of your perky ass displayed like that in front of him and he wants to smack himself as he feels the familiar heat in his abdomen, turning around to give you privacy as you change.

he doesn’t turn around, as much as you both want him to.

richie once claimed that bill was hornier than he was, and while then he’d laughed especially hard at that claim, bill currently cursed richie a million times for being correct.

“would you reconsider if we were sober?” when a hand lands on bill’s shoulder, he turns to see you staring up at him, wearing a plain blue and white baseball tee and sweats.

it’s quiet for a moment. y/n holds your breath. bill himself lets out a breath after a moment. “you’re fucking beautiful.”

it’s not an answer to your question, even, but he says it before he even realizes it and the look on your face suddenly makes bill wish he could say things like that without stuttering forever if it meant it made you feel like that.

you turn bright red, head dropping down bashfully. you fail to hide your smile drop, though, and it makes bill feel slightly sick. “you don’t have to say that bill.” you whisper, sounding insecure. and then you slip under the dark green duvet of the bed.

bill tells himself that if he were sober, he’d speak up; have the courage to say all the things to you that his mind is constantly screaming.

you are fucking beautiful, everybody knows it..

all our friends see it...

mike once told me you were the hottest person in the school and that was before we even met you, now he also claims you’re the most thoughtful person in existence...

ben thinks you might be the smartest person in our generation...

bev is confident that you are going to change the world some day...

richie calls you his platonic soulmate...and says that you have second most  rockin’ bod (second only because he’s trying to mack on eddie)...

eddie tells me every day how much he looks up to you and how much he admires your strength...

stan once told me that he’d marry you in a heartbeat...

(i think i’m falling for you...)

(and i hope you feel the same...)

your eyes look so innocent...but i know you’re not...

your lips look like they taste like candy...

you are so fucking pretty...

i want to put my dick in your mouth-

his last thought snaps him out of his drunken stupor and he quickly pulls on flannel pants and tugs off his shirt, not missing y/n’s eyes on his bare torso as he pulls on a shirt.

bill. you’re drunk, go to sleep, asshole.

he lays on the edge of the bed, turning off the lamp light and rubs his eyes. your eyes are closed, and you lay on your side, back facing him.

“i’m lucky t’have you, billy. we all are.” you mumble, and bill doesn’t even fight the bashful smile that climbs onto his face. you can’t seem him, anyways.

“g’night, billy.” you finish dreamily, snuggling the comforter and making bill swoon in the dark.

“g-goodnight, y/n.” he says quietly.

-

the next night was much more tame; the losers were worn out after a day of exploring and decided to go to the outdoor pool in the backyard of the b&b you'd rented. 

you sit on the couch by yourself, knowing bill was in your room because he didn't feel like swimming.  

but you were nervous to go in there, because you and bill hadn't been alone since last night when you'd basically confessed to him. and yeah, he'd sort of confessed back, but you could tell he was just trying to be considerate and not make it awkward for you or the rest of the losers.

with a sigh, you rising to your feet and padding to the closed door. soft music plays from the other end of the door and you smile as you hear bill hum quietly to bowie.

when you push the door open, bill’s figure is silhouetted by the faint orange glow that soaks the bedroom in gold and yellow light. crossing through the doorway softly, bill lifts his head and smiles softly.

you bite your lip at bill, who is sat dumbly on the edge of the bed, and it's quiet for a few moments but you know you're both thinking the same thing.

he stands to meet you only a few paces from his doorway, and he's so close to you that you have to tilt your head and stare up at him through dark lashes. his breath comes out like a whisper, and you feel desperate to know his lips again. but not like last night. you want all of him now - always. sober, drunk, sick, healthy, forever.

“bill..” you start, doe eyes searching his, as if trying to read him. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say because you both know the reason that your friends made you sleep together on this trip in this dim room and why he’s looking at you the way he is.

“please...” he whispers, a half smile on his face. his own voice cuts through the faint music playing through the silence. your lips lift in a smile at this. bill thinks you look the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

he didn’t say anything but a plea, and yet you both know exactly what he’s saying. 

your heart soars, and you grab his neck and he crashes his lips to yours desperately, letting out a quiet moan of relief.

you’ve never had somebody like him. of the few relationships you’d managed to keep up for a decent amount of time, you've never known someone like you know him - he's your best friend, the most important person in your life, and your first real love.

that used to scare you, but as you reach your hand to grasp his neck and pull him closer, you realize that this feeling in your stomach may not be as dangerous and innapropriate as previously thought.

because bill denbrough kisses like he’s taking his dying breath, like he’s drowning and you're the last bit of air left in the entire world. he kisses you like a starved writer desperate for a muse. his adamant tongue parted your shaking lips and sent tremors along your skin, as you clutch his chest.

his hands start on your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones as he tilts your head gently to deepen the kiss.

slowly, just as slowly as you fell for him, he slides his hands down your sides and grips your lower back with one large hand, the other squeezing your hip as he pulls your hips to him.

when you pull away for a second, he’s got an earth shattering, face-blinding smile on his lips that almost makes you want to cry.

you've never felt this breathless in your life, especially just by one boy, and all you can do is allow him to press you against dresser and catch your lips with his. his lips slot against yours hotly, moving with a kind of boyish expertise that makes your fingers tingle from all the way up to where they're nestled into his hair.

his plump red lips, slick and glossy, pull away from you and you watch with your hands carded through his auburn hair as he ducks slightly lower and kisses your jawline and your legs feel like jelly because you cannot believe it's happening. a song still plays through bill’s speakers.

one of your hands runs down his clothed chest and you gasp, having to bite back a squeal of pleasant surprise when one of his hands squeezes your ass. at your yelp of pleasure, bill chuckles and then his teeth bite down on the hollow of your throat.

he lifts his head to meet your eyes but doesn’t apologize, instead opting to shoot you a cocky lift of a brow at your reaction.

but before you can even roll your eyes, his lips are back to working magic and you're breathless, the heat in your stomach coiling and making you desperate.

you quietly moan his name as his tongue follows in his teeth’s wake; your neck slowly becoming the most beautiful piece of art bill has ever created.

eventually he raises his head again, his green eyes stuck on your neck, admiring the thunderstorm he’s started, and its everything you can do to not collapse when you get the courage to push bill softly and walk him towards his bed, your lips pressing needily to his.

bill gently spins on his heels around you and pushes you instead onto the mattress, and you're suddenly laying below him with wide eyes.

and you're grabbing his flannel and tugging him on top of you.

for a while, as bill holds himself up above you with his forearms, all that either of you can hear is the melodic tune of heart eyes by coin flowing from bill’s speakers and the sweet noise of their hands exploring each other.

honestly, the first time was unintentional.

while trying to move up, bill slowly rocks his hips against you. you gasp at the feeling of his semi-hard on pressing against your core, and bill almost moans at the noise of you alone.

a small moan escapes your throat again when he does it once more and he pulls away, clearly trying to hide his smug expression.

his eyes trail to your button up, admiring the trail of blossoming hickies reaching from below your jaw to the hem of your sweater, near the top skin of your breasts.

“c-can i?” he asks softly, and your face flushes pink as you nod shyly.

his hands reach out and slowly he undoes the buttons of the sweater, lips pressing sweetly on each bit of skin exposed as he slips the sweater off your frame. his lips against your skin leaves goosebumps in their wake.

you swoon at this action, but as the garment falls from your shoulders, you cross your arms and looks away softly.

“you don’t have t-to huh-hide from me, sweetheart.”

a piano melody plays softly in the background as bill coos quietly, turning your jaw with his forefinger so you're forced make eye contact. “hey. you’re s-so perfect. a-and i’m so fucking l-lucky.” he whispers sincerely.

and even through the expiring sunlight, the golden streams illuminating your face reveal a smile- a genuine, toothy, blushy, bashful smile that makes bill beam in return.

“please. luh-let me show you how m-much you mean.” he whispers.

you're glad you have enough self control to not burst out crying at bill’s words. if you were unsure if he wanted you before, this was the confirmation you knew you didn’t even need. and you love it all the same.

“please,” you whine softly, blushing harder at the pure look of love and lust on bill’s handsome face.

as his lips and hands flutter around your torso, you take in his figure and the god-like aura created by the music and the atmosphere of the world around you.

one word keeps circulating through your head, and as his fingers softly pinch your left nipple, you mewl and pull him up for a passionate kiss, deciding to let the word sit pretty in your mind.

you trails your fingers along the hem of his shirt and he leans back to let you unbutton it slowly. your lips find themselves against his hot skin, trailing in small kisses and bites down his chest as they follow your nimble hands. you cherish his smooth skin and taught muscles.

he soon turns to catch your lips with his, this time feverishly and deeply. he feels hungry against your lips, his tongue winning dominance instantly and smoothing around your mouth as he sighs against you, his hips rocking against you as your hands roam from his hair to his back and chest.

he pulls away, hands trailing down to your jeans, lips following his hands yet again, slower this time.

you whimper quietly at the feeling of white hot pleasure coursing through you and bill shoots you a smirk. “e-everybody is o-outside, y/n/n. we can be as loud as w-we want.” he says in a low tone, and you bite your lip in bliss. you feel yourself get wetter at his words, his voice sounding like royal velvet.

he stops his lips right at the button of your pants. “do yo-you want this?” he asks, his eyes welcoming, and you knows that if, for some absurd reason, you didn’t want him right now (or ever, honestly) you could be honest and he would be forever respectful of that.

“yes, bill. please.” you plead, hands carding into his hair as you watche him smile from in between your legs.

you watch as he unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere across the room. you have to bite back a giggle at the boy's eagerness and he bites his lip as he stares up at you, green eyes sparkling and true as his head sinks lower.

he kisses the inside of your knees slowly, trailing his lips closer and closer to the apex of your thighs where you need him the most before switching to the other side. you groan at his teasing and his quiet huff of a laugh leaves his lips and fans over your thigh.

he’s done this before, it’s obvious.

and it’s probably also very obvious to bill that you are not used to this kind of praise, this kind of approval, and this much intimate attention on your own body. he loves it - loves that he can finally show you how you deserve to feel after years of watching you, his best friend, and waiting for the day that he could put his lips on yours.

his lips finally press a soft kiss over your red lace-clothed clit, and you let out a strangled moan, hips jilting involuntarily at the tease.

his eyes meet yours and all he does is wink.

cocky bastard, you think as bill slides your lace undies off your legs.

it suddenly dawns on you that you're completely naked and vulnerable in front of this boy, and yet somehow you feel more comfortable and at home than you've ever felt in a situation like this.

and you're not totally sure when exactly that fucking word starts to circulate in your mind again- perhaps it is when he licks the first, bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit, or maybe it’s when he uses one hand to gently pin your hips down while his tongue does wicked tricks. or perhaps it’s when he first slips a single finger in.

or maybe that word has been there, hiding in your mind, on the tip of your tongue, the whole time.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s building a rhythm with his tongue and fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. and you can't find it to care as you look down at bill, eyes staring back at you with a cocky look on his face as his face is buried in your heat.

your wild moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other twirling in the sheets.  

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his shiny, slick lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you groan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinfully shiny from your juices.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark. "g-good girl, y/n."

the sharp warmth in your chest and the heat straight down to your center show you how much you like his words, and you preen when he tucks your hair behind your ear. "you taste p-perfect, baby." he whispers into your ear, your jaw going slack in shock that words like that would dare fall from his lips, your thighs clenching together. you bite back a moan at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for bill to fill you up and make you scream his name.

it doesn’t get long before you pull him out of his boxers, and soon you're rolling a condom onto his hard cock.

you almost, almost blush when your mouth waters at the sight of bill’s cock, hard, leaking with precum, and much larger than you'd anticipated.

rich was fucking right, you think, they do call him big bill for a reason.

he’s looking at you like you're the only thing that matters as you pull him onto you. he's letting out breathy moans that you realize you could listen to on repeat forever.

but suddenly he’s pushing you hard against the mattress, kissing you like a sailor returning to see his first love, and he’s lining himself up at your entrance, slowly teasing your entrance with his tip. you whimper at the feeling, your over-sensitive clit throbbing as you tug at his shoulders. he grins into your mouth. "u-se your words, baby." he mutters, and you go red.

“god, bill, please fuck me. need it so bad." you whimper breathlessly. he smiles at you, kissing your nose.

"i kn-know you do." he mutters and you want to smack the back of his head but then he pushes in agonizingly slow and you're gasping.  simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, eyes staring deep into each other. his are lidded and yours are blown wide, taking him and whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you out.  

you can feel the blush on your cheeks when you realize this is one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had in your life. and when bill's finally buried to the hilt inside you, you let out a low moan at the feeling.

thank god he warmed you up so well, because he was big and felt perfect buried inside you like this, his lips ghosting over your face as you clench your legs around his hips. his fingers rise to roll on your nipple and you let out a gasp of pleasure followed by a small moan of his name. he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“please, bill, move. please, fuck, i need it-“ you beg, eyes closed in need and lust.

you feel a strong hand grab your jaw suddenly, and your voice stops as you open your eyes to be met with deep green ones shining fiercely.

“look at me wh-while i fuck you.” he says, more a command, and you involuntarily moan at his words. 

 the power he has over you feeling foreign and incredibly enticing. never did you expect for bill denbrough to be anything more than vanilla in bed - but you're all here for it as you look back at him submissively, trying to hide your smile.

you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out just as slowly as he eased in, before pushing soundly back into you and coaxing a long, low moan from your lips. your head dips back, your spine curving and eyes fluttering before snapping back to his. he starts to thrust as you've adjusted to his size and you can feel him filling you up perfectly, the feeling euphoric. your toes curl in pleasure and you determine that his melodic moan itself could push you over the edge right now.

he builds a rhythm, your legs tightening around his waist as his lips catch yours in a searing kiss. "y-you're so fucking g-good for me, huh?" he asks, but the feeling of him fucking you into the mattress renders you almost speechless, your lips in an 'o' shape as you watch him. you nod, whining as your hands roam his chest and slide to his back.

"god, yes, bill. don't stop," you say breathlessly, whimpering as you pull him down to you by the neck. he kisses you soundly as he pounds into you, his hands roaming your body and making you blush.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a couple deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your legs slightly to hit another angle. “f-fuck...” he mutters, eyes trailing over your whole body yet never shying from your face for more than a few moments.

and now the word lingers in your mouth, on the tip of your tongue, but you're in so much pleasure that you can’t form words that aren’t his own name as they leave your mouth like a prayer.

his thrusts are deep, rough, and yet somehow sensual as if he’s trying to convey thoughts or feelings through his actions, and the combination has you slamming your hand over your mouth to conceal your loud moans, eyes finding his as you remember his previous words.

his eyes make you feel more special than any other human on this earth ever has. you've had a fair share of sexual encounters, but never have you ever experienced something like this with someone like your bill denbrough.

and as one hand grasps your breast and the other holds himself above you, his lips pressing against yours like he’d die if he wasn’t touching you, bill can tell that you're close. “y-you close, baby?” he purrs in your ear, and through his thrusts you can only nod your head and mewl.

his hand suddenly grabs your hands and lift them up above your head, pinning them there and rendering you unable to move our touch him; the feeling of being restrained makes you moan wantonly, moving your hips with his. he hums deeply, a delicious sound, "oh, you l-like that, y/n/n? g-good, so g-good." and then he moans into your collarbone. his words and the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot inside you, fucking you deeper than you could imagine, has you nearing the edge.

his large thumb snakes it’s way into your mouth then, and you look up in his eyes as your lips wrap around his digit. he groans, hips stuttering inside you. "good g-girl." he mutters, eyes glued to your lips as they suck on his thumb.

he drags his thumb out of your mouth and you release with a small pop. he lowers his hand, moving it down to rub sensual figure-8’s on your clit, a stark and delicious contrast to his hip’s motions. you yelp in pleasure, your sensitive clit throbbing.

“c-cum for me.” he whispers, and you're wrecked. your climax, after a slow, burning build, hits you hard and you clench around him, moaning out his name as your eyes barely stay locked on his. your voice cracks in pleasure as your body pulses in pleasure.

bill cums not even three thrusts after, a mess of groans and your name falling from his lips. he pulls out and you quietly hiss at the sudden absence of him, watching with exhausted eyes as bill tosses his condom and turns back to you.

you're fucked out and so out of breath that all you can do is grasp bill’s hand. he smiles softly at your naked, glowing form as the last of the afternoon light seeps through the windows.

he pulls on boxers quickly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing out of the room, leaving an empty feeling in the hollow of your stomach.

you're pretty was used to the people you sleep with not wanting to stick around much, and yet you can’t help the deflation in your chest as bill leaves the room. is he going to sleep on the couch? was it that bad for him?

you pull on underwear just as he comes back in, a cup of water in his hands.

when he softly offers it to you, you tear up slightly but cover it up with a yawn. you know you've never had someone care this much about you. that word lingers on the tip of your tongue, begging to drip from your mouth like honey.

“y-you tired?” bill asks shyly, his body dipping down as he sits next to you. you wonder why bill all of the sudden is acting so shy- as if he didn’t just provide the most incredible sex of your life.

“you wore me out.” you says with a little smile as you lean slightly against him and kiss his cheek.

his cheeks blossom at the simple affection. "i love you." he says suddenly, no stutter. his eyes widen in shock as he realizes what he'd just slipped.

you turn to look at him and he's bright red, looking more scared than you've ever seen him. you can't help your smile, though. "bill... i love you too." you admit, stomach fluttering in excitement. he smiles softly, exhaling, "h-holy shit, thank god. that would have m-made the rest of this t-trip so a-awful."

you giggle, hand falling to his jaw. "i love you so much." you mutter, pulling him down with you so your heads hip the pillow, his hands falling on your bare hips as you kiss sweetly. you can't stop smiling into the kiss, and neither can he, so it's full of quiet laughs and teeth knocking, noses brushing together.

"i love y-you so much, y/n." he whispers into your lips, his mouth wide with a dopey smile. you smooth the hair from his eyes and kiss him again. "be mine, p-please."

"i already am, denbrough." you whisper softly.

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill is 🤤🤤 #losers x reader #losers club x reader

[kxhlzn]

i | THE BIRDWATCHER.

SYNOPSIS: You spend some time brewing over big news, and Ben has a favor to ask.

GENRE: Coming-Of-Age, Drama, Angst, Romance, Slow Burn.

PAIRINGS: Stanley Uris/Reader, confusing Richie/Reader, Unrequited!Beverly/Reader, Bev/Ben, Pining!Eddie/Richie.

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Profanity, semi-nudity, gay pining. Bullying, homophobia, etc in future chapters!

SONG RECS: 'She' by Dodie.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I made a post about my choice to rewrite this series, so here's the first chapter! The Losers' Club are all fifteen here, but this is still set in 1989. Pennywise doesn't exist. Reader is bisexual, or at least interested in guys and gals (& maybe non-binary pals! Whatever floats your boat!) Also if this all over the place don't come at me pls. Slightly edited and idk if it is even good so— 🤪✌🏻

There's been quite a few changes :)

MAY 1989.

DEAR LOSERS' CLUB,

No, that wasn't personal enough. You wanted each of them to know what they meant to you. Each of them.

DEAREST BEVERLY,

Why must your thoughts always drift to her first? Why can't she be third or fifth?

TO RICHIE,

You huff dramatically and crumple the notebook paper, attempting to toss it into the waste bin a few feet away.

A detached sigh tumbles from the wide desk across from you, and your history teacher slowly retracts his novel from in front of him to reveal an unamused expression.

He rolls his tongue against his cheek, and waits. When he is met with silence, he shifts in his seat. "... Aren't you, uh... Against wasting trees or whatever?"

You blink. "Yeah, obviously."

"Yeah, obviously!" Mr. Ellis laughs bitterly, and rolls his eyes. "Well, can you waste them a bit quieter?"

Before you can respond, he puts up a finger like he's suddenly been enlightened. "Or, better yet— Leave."

You tap your fingertips against your thighs, and kick your feet up onto your desk. "You know, if I didn't know better, Mr. Ellis, I'd think you didn't like me or something."

He stares at you blankly. "And where on Earth did you come up with that idea?"

You shrug, "No clue. Mr. Ellis, can I confide in your honest feedback on something?"

"I imagine you will anyway—"

"—So, listen... I'm going on a personal journey when summer break is over and I'm afraid I won't ever see you again," You explain, curving your brows inward. Your teacher uses his index finger to trace a single tear gliding down his cheek. "And, um, I don't— I don't know how to.. How do I tell the only true friends I've ever had?"

He pretends to think it over long and hard. "Let me see..."

"I don't care," He finishes, picking up his novel where he left off.

You scowl, and drop your forehead against the surface of your desk, the echo reverberating throughout the empty classroom, save for two people.

Mr. Ellis unwraps a cookie and takes a large bite, and glances at you intermediately between pages. He sighs again. "Will you leave if I tell you what to do?"

"Faster than when the lunch bell rings," You chirp, grinning brightly and leaning forward eagerly on your desk.

He rolls his eyes and puts his feet up on his desk, and pressing his back into his chair. "Go have some fun. Get high. Jump off roofs and ding-dong ditch. Just go be a kid, and tell them when the time is right. Okay?"

   A light breeze rushes through the windows propped open with history textbooks, rustling the papers stacked on Mr. Ellis's large desk. Outside, the faint echo of laughter and summer jitters resounds within the four walls surrounding you.

You nod firmly, and skip to an open window.

Tossing him a grin, you give some finger guns. You crawl up onto the large sill, and before you hop out, Mr. Ellis calls your name.

He has the softest expression you've ever seen on him. "Listen— It's been a pleasure having you. Even if you were the loudest, most persistent, and possibly the worst student I've ever had. Just, uh— Be honest with your friends, okay? Don't wait 'til the last minute. They'll never forgive you if you do."

You give him a two-finger salute before hopping out the window.

You found out you were moving away from Derry in early April, due to an accident involving your grandfather's motorcycle obsession, but there was never really a good time to tell the people you've been slumming it with since you were eleven. The first time you tried, Richard Tozier pushed you off a cliff (a story for another time), and the second time, Ben burned himself on Beverly's flat iron (also a long story). The third time, the words fell dead on your lips when Stanley Uris told you you were the closest thing to a best friend he had.

You swear he was on the verge of tears.

So, you postponed. Now, it's late May, and you haven't said a word to them.

You know you have to tell them— You know this, you do, but the timing is never right. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself— Because somehow the words "you're a coward" are far too intimidating to admit.

Especially to yourself.

Heat swells across your cheeks, the massive, and rowdy, kitchen bustling with voices and feet. Your apron hugs your waist and you peer over your shoulder at Beverly, whose red hair is vibrant against the pale walls. Her blue eyes glance up to meet yours, and they are gentle. Bristling, you face Stanley on your right, who is speaking softly with an elderly woman on the other side of the counter.

The soup kitchen is a bit vacant in terms of people to serve, as it's the first few minutes before the dinner crowd pools in at seven. This time is the most peaceful— Pots and pans full of nutritional foods are filling up quick, and you're all anxious to help anybody who walks in the doors.

In Derry, there isn't much funding for volunteer work, so you do what you can— The local church offered up lodging for the soup kitchen, so you're all pretty thankful for the church leaders.

You study Stanley silently, his eyes focused and mild as he speaks with the woman. He's grown quite a bit since last summer, and he let his hair grow out a bit, so now it's a wild mess of curls. You like that he's eased up on the product, so he's all-natural. In order to catch what the woman is saying, he leans forward, in all his 5'8" glory.

He glances at you and places a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Louanne. I'll see what I can do."

She smiles. "Bless you, Stephen."

You snort while she waddles off, and Stanley leans on the counter with his attention locked on you. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"She seems sweet," You say, "How you liking volunteering, Stephen?"

He tries to prevent himself from laughing. "Stop! That's so mean, she's sick."

"What ever do you mean?" You quip, leaning on the counter next to him. Stan rubs your hair into a frizzy mess and stands tall.

"Uris, I need you over here on dishes," Willow, your team leader, shouts from across the kitchen. You can only briefly catch her curvy figure before she disappears behind the doorway.

"Nah, Willow, I got it! Stan's good with the old ladies. Real player, this one," You respond, poking Stan's stomach, "Maybe you'll get lucky."

"That's gross! Go away."

You laugh maniacally.

The dinner rush is heavy once seven hits, but it fades out at about 7:45. People are ecstatic that's it stew night because they are allowed to take a styrofoam bowl on the go. A few stragglers are permitted to camp the night out in the main hall, as the homeless aren't taken to kindly in Derry. Mayor claims it's 'bad' for traffic and tourism, but you know that Derry is the last place anyone would want to tour in. You're pretty sure it's been wiped off the maps, but that's a conspiracy theory for another time, one that Richie had so kindly coined.

Most of the kids who volunteer at the soup kitchen in the church are hoping to capture some hours for the college applications, but you volunteered because you felt like it was the right thing to do; It was simply convenient that it looked good on apps.

There's light shuffling and clanging as volunteers work to clear up the church for Sunday mass. You balance a tray of plates and glasses pressed against your chest with one arm, while you wipe down a table. There's a hand on your shoulder that suddenly startles you, causing you to drop the tray on instinct.

Glass shatters everywhere, then silence.

"Fuck!" You whisper violently, and you drop to your knees, frantically trying to pick up as many shards as possible before Willow comes screaming.

Beverly is beside you, as is Stanley, and all three of your try to clean the mess.

"God, I'm so sorry," Beverly says, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Uh, no, no, it's okay," You reply quickly, looking up at her. She smiles softly.

You flush and revert your attention back to the problem at hand. Your cheeks burn a bit, so you try to ignore it— But it leads to carelessness, and you give yourself a clean cut across your forefinger.

Hissing, you retract your hand and examine the damage. The minute you notice red, you become uneasy. Beverly and Stanley both take a sharp inhale.

"Oh, God— Uh, Stan, you got this? I'm gonna go get her cleaned up," Beverly says.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Thanks. C'mon, let's go," Beverly tells you, but you shake your head.

"I'm fine! S'just a cut. I can slap a bandaid on it later," You reassure her, but she's not having it.

"Now," She warns, gripping your arm softly.

Bottom line, Beverly Marsh can make you do anything she wants you to.

You kick your legs out in a steady beat, seated on a counter, while Bev digs around the first aid kit in the storage room. Her back is facing you, so you have a chance to study the freckles up the top of her spine and into her hairline.

You hold your right hand with your wrist, squeezing harder each time your wound throbs.

"Got it," Bev whispers, and she turns quickly. Positioning herself between your knees, she takes a hold of your finger and wipes it briefly with a wet cotton ball. Next, she uses a clean one to wipe disinfectant across the slit. "How bad does it hurt?"

You lie. "Not much."

Her blue eyes look at you with amusement. "Please."

"Okaaay. A bit more than 'not much'."

"Hm," Beverly applies a bit of cream on your cut. "What kind of bandaid do you want?"

She holds up plain, princess, and car bandaids.

"What the fuck are those? Gender-specific bandages?"

She says your name sternly.

You sigh. "Princess, please."

Beverly smiles and opens the package.

The room is quiet for all except the rustling of the paper, and you pop your mouth awkwardly.

"Hey," Bev says slowly, "Um, listen... You do realize that Stan—"

The door is cracked open and the curly head of Stanley peeks through. "Hey... The cut isn't bad, is it?"

You and Bev glance at each other, and Bev shakes her head.

"No, not at all. Just finishing up," She replies, sticking the pink bandaid on your wound. You hop down and wiggle your finger at Stanley with a grin.

"Good as new!"

He smiles softly. "Glad you're okay. I cleaned up all the glass, so don't worry about it."

"Okay! Thanks, Stan," You say, hooking your arm around his neck. He prickles a bit but relaxes immediately.

Beverly unties her apron and lays it on her forearm while she walks on your free side. "M' still upset Ben couldn't make it."

"Me too," You agree, "He was really looking forward to it."

"He can always go without us," Stan adds.

"It's not the same, though!" You say.

Stan shrugs.

It's humid outside the church, but that's to be expected during the summer. The sky is a deep cloudy sapphire, with the buzz of bugs filling the air. The older volunteers disappear into their cars while you, Stanley, and Beverly talk amongst yourselves. Bulbs above the entrance are the only source of light within a few yards.

Beverly puts her weight on her left foot, the gravel beneath her crackling while she recites a story Bill told her about local legends.

Just as she reaches the climax, the church doors creak open and Willow appears. She keeps her back to you while she locks the entrance, and once she turns, she eyes the three of you.

"Y'all need a ride?"

All of you glance at each other, and Stanley checks his watch.

"We'd love one!" You chirp, giving him a light shove.

"If it's alright with you, of course," Bev adds.

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't!" Willow says sharply, but without venom. "Hop in."

Somehow, you end up squeezed in the middle, with Stanley and Beverly on each of your sides. You scowl, eyeing the passenger seat with a purse in it.

Stan's clearly uncomfortable, his shoulders curved inward while he anxiously taps his kneecaps. He seems to be looking everywhere but at you and Bev.

"Everything okay?" You whisper.

He shrugs. "Yeah, just, uh— My mom isn't big on me getting home so late from the kitchen; She wants me to quit."

"That's fucked," You say.

"Hey!" Willow barks, glaring at you through the rearview mirror. "I may your super cool team leader, but I still don't appreciate you using a dirty mouth in my car."

You snicker, and she bursts into laughter.

Beverly pokes your shoulder. "Hey, um— Would... Would it be cool if I stayed with you tonight? My dad, he, um... He went out drinking when I woke up, so—"

"Of course," You interrupt. "Stay however long you need."

"Thanks..." Bev says quietly, and she leans against the window of the car.

Willow pulls up into your driveway within five minutes, and Bev steps out. You make an effort to give Stan a brief hug before you go, and he gives you a little wave as Willow leaves.

You and Bev remain quiet when you sneak into the house through the front door, in fear you might wake your mother. When you enter the living room and see the woman's knocked out cold with the television on, you wave Beverly upstairs. She obliges.

You creep up to your mother and crouch next to her head. She's got a bit of drool pooling on the cushion, and you crinkle your nose.

Retrieving a pillow from a loveseat, you tuck it gently beneath her head and pull a blanket over her. Giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, you leave a glass of water and ibuprofen on the coffee table.

"Does she always do that?" Is the first thing Bev says when you reach your bedroom. You're a bit taken aback, but you regroup swiftly.

"Yeah. She gets these really bad migraines," You explain, leaving your bag on the floor and kicking off your sneakers. "And, um, they can sometimes turn into seizures, so we try to let her sleep as comfortably as possible."

"Oh," Bev says, "Can I borrow some pajamas?"

"Yeah!" You reply, "Just grab something from the closet or my drawers."

"'Kay," She snags a blank tank while you pick out a yellow nightgown. You're facing the mirror when Beverly pulls off her t-shirt, and you nearly choke. You can't seem to take your eyes off her back, even when you know you've been staring for too long. "Is your little brother asleep?"

You drop your attention to the floor and quickly pull off your shirt. "Yeah, should be. I'll kill the little shithead if he's not."

Bev smiles. "He's a good kid; If he's awake, he's probably reading. He likes to read, right?"

"Yup," You pop the 'p', "He's into numbers and all that. I'll never understand it."

"He probably thinks the same thing about your art, you know."

You hum and pull the nightgown over your head. "Everybody thinks that way about art, Bev. If you're not dedicated to a nine to five office job, then you're somehow a deadbeat, leaching off the productive middle class."

Bev laughs gently, and it's airy and elegant and perfect. "You're always opinionated, you know that?"

When you toss her a quizzical look, she elaborates and walks over to face you. "Not in a negative way; It's like... It's like you must have all these thoughts swimming around in that pretty head of yours."

Pretty?

Beverly continues. "I mean, you're just so... I don't know? Most people don't care about anything, let alone the world or society. You're bound to make a difference."

You blink at her, your fairy lights hanging loosely from your window and spreading a gold light. Her ocean eyes are iridescent. She's iridescent. Her pink lips curve into a smile, and she glances at the floor.

"What?" She whispers.

You sputter. "N-Nothing. Just, um— Thanks. Thank you, really. I— I just, nobody's taken me that seriously before," You explain, tucking a thick strand of hair behind your ear. "I've always just been Loudmouth."

Bev's face melts into one of sympathy and curiosity, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. Gingerly, she places a hand on your shoulder, one that shoots electricity throughout your skin. Her grip tightens. "Listen. Quiet people don't do shit, okay? People who keep their opinions to themselves don't make history."

You shrug a shoulder and give her a lopsided smile. "I can't even make a difference in backwater Derry. How the hell am I supposed to change the world?"

Outside, rain begins to patter restlessly against your windowsill, keeping the stars awake. Inside, Beverly looks at you like she just might think you're a goddess.

"You've already changed mine."

Your entire life, people have told you how the world has to be: Simple, honest, and conservative. They've told you who to be, who to love, what to do. It's always been "you'll meet someone who makes you feel like the world is glowing", followed by, "don't rush, you'll find him soon". What if you don't want to find him? What if you want to find her?

What if you already have?

Beverly Marsh is incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen when she's jumping from the cliff into the lake below.

Scratch that, she's incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen, and she makes your universe glow.

She's a flash of red, shimmering, shining, iridescent; A ruby tossed into the sky like a plain penny into a wishing well.

   She's radiant, tomboyish, and beautiful.

Beverly, in all her elegance, has learned to tame your chaotic hair, your wild eyes, and the crooked pair of overalls that swallowed your thighs. Her, that gentle smile, rendered you speechless daily. You, notoriously nicknamed Loudmouth or Mouth, were silent for her.

You've already changed mine.

"Hey, Mouth! The hell are you gawking at?"

Richie Tozier waves a hand in front of you and you crank your eyes up to his squinting face. His freckles surround the massive pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, and his black hair nearly blinds him.

You throw up a palm to block the sun, but his giant head is doing most of the work. "Your mother over there in her Sunday best."

If he swung his body around any quicker, his head might have popped off like a Barbie doll. He gazes off into the woods across the quarry, his lips upturned in an unattractive flytrap.

Beverly slips her cream-colored gown off her pale shoulders, drawing all eyes to her. The sun beats down on her chopped red locks, accenting the constellation of freckles along her nose, and warming your flesh under its rays.

Catching the way they all gaze at her, as starstruck as yourself, it hits you like a freight train— you weren't looking at her like you should have been.

Under the intensity of her icy blue gaze, you feel so small; so homely. Your chest aches, but that girl doesn't give you time to grieve. She is in the air in a split second, high like an angel, falling towards the murky waters below.

  The boys crowd around the cliff's edge, mouths gaping, eyes bright. It strikes you from the heavens, like a harsh cacophony: These aren't your boys anymore.

  You had slipped out of the world briefly, and before long, you are alone at the edge.

Sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of Stanley Uris. His mouth forms a firm line. He seems to be at war with himself as he stares out into the blue sky, dotted with white clouds.

  He stays silent for a moment, searching for the right words. "I want to go last," He finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "I don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before I go."

  The vulnerability he expresses warms your heart, and you grin up at him, having gained your confidence back. You are grateful he didn't pry into your dilemma. You didn't expect otherwise, but it was still nice. Stanley is a boy of few words, but the word 'shy' doesn't fit right, as it implies bashfulness or a sweet innocence.

   Rather, he prefers the quality of speech over quantity, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always the loudest. A respectable notion, sure, but you tend to believe it in theory rather than in practice.

   Stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. One of his hands cuffs the other in front of his hips. The cool breeze had only an inch to squeeze between within the crevice of your shoulders.

You pull your yellow scrunchie from your hair, and wrap it around your wrist, as Stanley speaks, "Promise not to tell?"

“Pinky promise,” You insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. When his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. “I never break them.”

   You're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystallizing in your descent.

     "I know."

Stanley crosses his fingers behind his back and steps off the cliff's rocky edge.

Stan’s dive is a flash of gold: Like a bird, graceful in its dip, his curls like its wings.

  You find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

The water is cool, luckily fizzling the heat out of your cheeks when Beverly appears beside you, grinning softly at—

Bill.

You swallow thickly and turn your head to Richie and Eddie arguing about something pointless. Richie's skin is set ablaze every time Eddie points a finger at him or moves closer.

Across from you, Ben's eyes are set on your face, and you nearly jump when yours land on them. He sputters silently and glances over to the boulders near the trees.

You tilt your head in question, "Ben, what is it?" It's too late now, but you realize you weren't very subtle. At all.

He facepalms. "Can we, uh...?"

Nodding in understanding, you doggy paddle through the lake and onto the shore. Ben is quickly beside you.

The boy leads you over to the boulders and sits on a large one. His hands are glued to his knees, and you can tell he's anxious.

You lean your elbows on your thighs and wait.

"U-U-Um— Can I..? Would you..?" He shakes his head suddenly and regroups. "I need— I need help with something..."

"...Okay..?" You gesture for him to elaborate.

"Can you help me write love notes to Beverly?" He spits out softly, and you choke on your own spit.

You stand up abruptly, like you sat on a pin, and cross your arms. Your brows curl inward in confusion, embarrassment, and anxiety. "W-What? Sorry, I don't— Why?"

"Because... You are a girl, you know? You know a lot more personal stuff about her, I think, right?" He asks, rubbing his clammy palms together.

"Uh," You run your fingers up your arm, "I guess? I don't think... That would be... She doesn't..."

He gives you an awkward crooked smile. "I mean, it's okay 'cause you're a girl. I wanted to ask Bill or someone else but since they're guys it might be different..."

"H-How so?"

"Well— You know. They might secretly like her or something," Ben says, staring at the dirt by his feet.

You swallow, and glance out to the water; To where she is. Beverly meets your eyes and smiles gently. Your stomach does a flip.

"Can I— Can I think about it?" You inquire softly, and Ben nods swiftly.

"Yes! Yes, of course. That's okay," He sounds a bit sad.

You reach out and rub his shoulder. "You're an amazing person, Ben, you know that? She'd love anything you wrote to her."

You smile crookedly, the corner of your mouth twitching.

Ben nods slowly and shakes his arms a bit to free himself of nerves. "You're right— I should just be more confident..."

He's obviously trying to convince himself more than you.

"Bev—" He shouts suddenly, and she looks over with a grin. One of her hands runs through her hair, and you can feel her eyes burning holes in your face just seconds before she focuses on him. "You look beautiful today!"

Beverly Marsh smiles ever so gently, her cheeks blossoming in a shade of scarlet. The freckles lining the bridge of her nose accent the brightness of her eyes, and you swallow thickly.

She really does.

Tapping a pen against a thick sheet of paper, you push your tongue against your cheek and read over the words again.

PROS:

♡ helping ben!

♡ practicing writing!

♡ practicing stationary!

♡ getting ben and bev together!

♡ making bev feel good!

♡ getting over the butterflies?

You scowl. The hell does that mean? You glance at the clock, which reads 8:37. You consider the pros to writing anonymous love letters to Beverly, which seems to be a lot— And the selfish part of you tells you that it would be beneficial to you— How so? You're not quite sure, as admitting to yourself that it even took nearly an hour.

Within your friend group, you've always been relatively open— Keeping up with honesty, kindness, and always wearing your heart on your sleeve. Stanley said it was naive to do so, but you feel that in a world that is so blatantly harsh and negative, being real with those around you is a heap of good. So why is it suddenly so difficult to be honest with yourself?

You concentrate your thoughts of Beverly, so that you might understand, or in the least identify, what exactly your true intentions with her are. Immediately, your stomach curls, and you feel your insides turn to mush. These sensations are familiar— You've had countless encounters with them.

You picture her in your head, memorize the features of her that always seem to stick when she's around. Her red hair, her freckles, those eyes... And her lips. The curve of them when she grins, or laughs— And briefly, ever so, you imagine what'd they'd be like pressed against yours—

"Hey," Your mom says, your door now swung open, and you scream, tipping out of your desk chair. You land flat against your back and groan.

Your heart beats painfully in your ribcage.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Come do the dishes," She tells you, and you nod profusely.

You inhale through your nostrils and run your fingers through your hair, sighing. Once she's gone, you push your head into the crook of your elbow.

Tears unravel into your arm.

Why did it have to be Beverly Marsh?

[ 🌱 ] taglist (from original write):

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova @pacifythepanda @queen1054 @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @delicrieux (you get to be on here cuz.. i said so).

#beverly marsh x reader #stanley uris x reader #it 2017 #it fanfiction #stanley uris imagine #beverly marsh imagine #kassiewrites #chapter one #BW #bw rewrite #the birdwatcher & his lover #the birdwatcher series #kassie writes

[princecupcakee]

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,320

Chapter: 2/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3)

Next Chapters: Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 2: What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?, What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t? & Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast 

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster​, @s-s-georgie​, @mikeuris​, @gazebobullshit​, @that-weird-girls-blog​, @tozierking​​​, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @s-onora​, @bellarosewrites​, @lermanslogan​, @ambitiousskychild​, @ghostnebula​, @vanillaredvelvet​,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 2

What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?

He loves Beverly, he really does, but right now, in this gigantic crowd of people, he hates her. Really, really hates her. He thinks that everything and everyone (mildly excluding Ben, Beverly, Bill, Mike, and Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie) is out to kill him. Two groups of teenagers tried to sell him drugs, or something —he wouldn’t know. He ran away before they could say anything.

It was loud, and hot, and made Eddie, really, really uncomfortable. As much as he tried to avoid the touches of every person jumping around to whatever incomprehensible song was being shouted —yes, he meant shouted — it was too cramped. “You okay there?” Eddie heard a voice behind him ask, loudly. As he looked in that direction, Eddie decided that speaking would be useless, so he simply shook his head. He let Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie or, simply, Richie, take his hand and lead him out. “You looked really uncomfortable,” Richie smiled, laughing a bit.

“Uh, yeah, don’t do that well with big crowds and everything,” Eddie shrugged, attempting to look ‘cool.’

Richie laughed, “Lets go.”

“But, the concert?”

“I’ve seen ‘em before,” Richie shook his head, “I’ll take you back home, its pretty late anyway.”

“Thanks,” Eddie smiled as he took Richie’s outstretched hand.

“Where is your place?” Richie asked him, crossing the pedestrian.

“I uh, live with Ben and Bev.”

“That mansion? Well, I guess when the husband is an architect and the wife is a designer you get the Buckingham fucking Palace.” Eddie laughed at that (as much as he tried to hide it.)

“But, yeah, I’m staying at Ben and Bev’s while I’m here.”

“While you’re here?” Richie nods

“I don’t live in LA, I’m from New York,” Eddie replied.

“I didn’t think you were from here,” Richie smiled, walking backward to face Eddie.

“That’s dangerous.”

“And thats,” Richie points at Eddie “no fun.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, moving away from the topic, “Its like you guys have your own planet here,” he says, scanning the scenery.

“Says the New Yorker,” Richie said sarcastically.

Eddie gave him a questioning look, trying to hide a smile. “You know, all the big pretty buildings and broadway, and all the big movies,” Richie jokes in a horrible Brooklyn accent.

“Don’t-don’t do that,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Thats my career.” Richie grinned walking into the subway.

Eddie ignored that, “I thought LA was all cars?” He asked.

“It is. I’m doing a kind of project thing though,” Richie smiles talking Eddie’s hand. That slightly throwing Eddie off. “See?” Richie points to a vinyl (yes, Eddie learned the word) with their intertwined fingers.

“I don’t think I understand,” Eddie says looking at Richie.

“I don’t think you need to,” Richie winks, seating Eddie further from the vinyl.

“For a comedian, you’re not funny.”

“Come to one of my shows then. Got one tomorrow night.” Richie winks.

“Sure.”

Richie stops himself before he says ‘its a date.’

“Where did you go?” Beverly asked Eddie as he walked into the kitchen where the rest of the group was standing.

“I went back here,” Eddie says, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room as he holds back a ‘and kind of got a date. Kind of. Well, no it isn’t a date. I’m just gonna watch his show-’

“Richie ‘went back here,’ too?”

“Oh- no, he just… it was really late and he-he walked and rode the train with me back here.” Eddie replied. Ben, Beverly, Bill, and Mike all exchanged looks while he wasn’t looking. “I uh- speaking of Richie though, what does he even do?” He asked, trying to be subtle. Keyword: trying.

Ben tried to hide a laugh, “Besides working at the shop he does some comedy, I thought we told you already?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh anyway, does he even have shows?”

Deciding that he didn’t want this conversation to last too long since Eddie would never bring up what he really wants to say, “He’s got a show tomorrow n-night, I think,” Bill says looking at Ben and Beverly, “Think we can watch it?”

“Totally, its at a bar not too far from here,” Ben smiles.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie says quickly, thankful that his friends ‘didn’t’ notice how much he wanted to go.

~~~

Eddie was alone on Sunday morning, tired after the concert the night before, —despite not being there for half of it—and he woke up at around 10. His four other momentary housemates were out for the day on whatever they were planning on doing on a Sunday morning in Los Angeles —he wondered what there is to do. Which made Eddie feel painfully single, but also made him feel a little better. An abnormal creek came from downstairs he shut the door to his bedroom, ‘I must’ve just imagined it, I need coffee.’

A loud crash sound rang inside the house and followed Eddie to the first floor. He ran into the kitchen, grabbed the first thing he could find, and rushed toward the direction of the sound, prepared to hit. “Holy fuck, please no!” Richie shouted, hands above his head, dropping the coat rack he was trying to put straight back up. Eddie dropped the pan in his hands and sighed, relieved. “What the fuck is this? Tangled?” Richie laughed, breathlessly.

“Asshole. I thought there was some, I don’t know, a psychopathic- killer- clown that broke into the house out to kill me.”

“I- I’m not even gonna fucking ask.”

Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes, ”why are you here anyway?”

“Just picking up something, what are you doing here?” Richie asked, ‘well shit. Now I look like an idiot.’

“Told you. I’m staying here.” Eddie answered returning the pan to the kitchen.

“Uh, right,” Richie awkwardly said, wanting to fill the silence. As much as he wanted to ask, ‘are you coming to my show tonight?’ He didn’t and instead, “so, how’s your mom doing? She okay after last night?”

“Ew. That’s disgusting,” Eddie said his face scrunching up, “I, uh, I’m going.”

As if he read Richie’s mind he clarified, “I’m going to your show.”

“Neat.” Richie smiled widely, “uh no. Not neat. No! Not that is it’s ‘not neat’ for you to come to my show, I mean not neat. Like, not the word ‘neat’. Jeez. Uh—“

“Yeah, neat.” Eddie laughed, “weren’t you going to get something?” He knew he was winning this.

“Oh right, uh,” The man in glasses began to walk towards the library —it wasn’t actually a library just an extra room Ben and Beverly filled with books and music things (Eddie honestly didn't know what they were). Again, their house is fucking like a mansion— and Richie came out with vinyl in his hands, “they borrowed it,” He said shaking it.

“Have you heard it before?”

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says walking closer.

“Lets go then,” Richie smirks going back into the room, putting in the vinyl. ‘Sittin' in the kitchen, a house in Macon’ rang the player, ‘Loretta's singing on the radio’

"Smell of coffee, eggs, and bacon” Richie sung.

“What is that?” Eddie asked.

“‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’, Lucinda Williams,” Richie replied just as the same line played.

“What kind of song even is that? Its all guitar but not-”

“First, its country and rock. Alt-Country. Second, not all songs with guitars have to sound like ‘The Carpal Tunnel Of Love’ or something,”

“I don’t even wanna what that is,” Eddie rolled his eyes, looking at the player —he didn’t actually know what it was called.

“You live under a rock. Not even a single rock— you-you live in a fucking cave.”

“Half the people I know don’t know what that is.” But Richie was already picking up a new vinyl — ‘is that a fucking sheep?’ Eddie wondered once he saw the cover.

Richie set the —‘what the fuck is that’ Eddie thought— on a place over the vinyl. “We take sour sips from life's lush lips” Richie sung, smiling at Eddie.

“Its so loud. What the fuck is that?” Richie just kept on singing.

“Whoa-oh, we're so miserable and stunning,” Richie sang. As, much as Eddie didn’t want to admit it, he sounded amazing.

“This is so loud. I’m not doing this,” Eddie said walking out of the room. The song being loud was the reason, he promised. It wasn’t because he knew he would lose it if he kept going, it was just loud.

“Hey, what? Eddie, wait!” Richie said stopping the music and tripping over himself to get to the door. “Have you been walking through life with earplugs on? Jeez,” Richie checked his watch, “shit, I’m gonna head back to the store. I’ll see you tonight?”

Eddie thought his heart stopped for a moment, and then he remembered he was going to Richie’s show. Nothing more. Because it shouldn’t be anything more. “Yeah,” Eddie said, watching as Richie walked out the door.

~~~

Eddie was alone in his room Sunday night, (or Monday morning? He couldn’t tell) tired of laughing, tired of being so far away from Richie. His set was amazing (not that Eddie would tell him that.) So maybe he was feeling something. Maybe he was feeling a lot. That doesn’t mean he must fall into Richie's arms. Or should fall into his arms —he thinks that Richie definitely can his hands and shoulders and just his arms are so big. He knows he shouldn’t fall in love again. The last time didn’t do well for him, and he had known her for years before they even started dating. And much longer before they got married. He shouldn’t be feeling this. But what if he was?

What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t?

As he walked out of the door from the Marsh’s house, he headed for the trains once again. Something in his head was pulling him away, not wanting him to continue the project, but what if its what’s good for him? What if Eddie didn’t like him the same way? This might continue to be like Connor. I mean, they saw each other in the store and started talking after ditching a concert? Is that how love was supposed to go? How is love supposed to go? On the other hand, Ben and Bev seem to like him. He trusts Ben and Bev. He trusts Eddie. But what if Eddie shouldn’t be trusted? This was something all too fragile.

Richie walked into the train, looking down on the vinyl he played Eddie. He took out the Sharpie from his pocket prepared to write on ‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’ but then his phone let out a ‘ping’ He opened his phone to a group chat with Stan, Patty, Ben, and Bev called: ‘The Four Hets Who Help With The Vinyl Project Thing’ —Richie was also surprised that it fits there.

Patty: Good luck on your date today!!! Stan: Yeah, have fun, rich. Ben: Tell us everything once its done :) Ben: By the way, Stan and Patty, we’re almost there. Stan: See you guys. Bev: Thats great and I absolutely love that for you. But I thought you were with [redacted] [Bev Deleted a Message.]

Richie didn’t catch what Beverly had written, but if it was deleted it probably wasn’t important. Richie opened the mail app on his phone to see the email that got him this date again. He had gotten it the day after he left Hot Fuss on the train, and he, Patty, and Stan had eaten out that night.

Subject: I found your vinyl From: Adam Wilson <@AdAmWIlsOn> To: Richie Toz <@Remembering_Records> 

  ‘Hey, Richie. My name’s Adam. I found the Hot Fuss album you left on the train a few weeks ago. I used to love listening to The Killers but work took so much of my time that I didn’t get to listen to them much anymore, but when I listened to your album, I felt like I finally relaxed, you know? I absolutely love Mr. Brightside but Somebody Told Me is still running through my head (Smile Like You Mean it doesn’t even need to be said. Its perfect. Oh man but then there’s also All These Things That I’ve Done. The Killers are just perfect.)

I should probably tell you somethings about me. I’m a doctor. I moved here from Manchester, UK, around a week ago to start a new job. I also volunteer at animal shelters in my spare time.

If I don’t sound like a serial killer and you’re interested, I really would love a date.

P.S. Mr. Brightside or Miss Atomic Bomb?

Richie had replied to him simply and fairly quickly (he chose Mr. Brightside.) He was heading there now, over to a restaurant downtown. He looked back down at the vinyl in his hands, just as he remembered Eddie smile and laugh awkwardly when he didn’t know what was going on. There was something about Eddie. Richie had no clue what it was, or what it made him feel, but there was definitely something there. He’s never felt this way before. Not with his friends, not with his hookups, not with Connor. It isn’t that he didn’t like it. He just had to be careful with it.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t leave them in the subway. He has time to bring them home first, right?

~~~

Richie walked into the restaurant, almost an hour late. By the time he had gotten home, he and Adam were already supposed to be meeting up, since the train he was previously on was going in the opposite direction. He then decided that riding his car would be faster than taking the trains, but the traffic was unbearable. He had taken a few wrong turns heading to the restaurant, too. Not that he didn’t know the place, there was a concert a few streets away that blocked some of the streets. So, exactly 53 minutes and 20 seconds late for his date, he stood there. As expected, Adam wasn’t there anymore.

Richie walked into the backseat of his car, kicking the chair in front of him. Of course, he messed up his first date in years. Fucking years. The one guy was interested in him, now gone, because he- what was he even doing? If he just dropped the two pieces of vinyl, he could’ve gotten this date and would’ve had two or more possible other ones. He wouldn’t blame Eddie for this failed date. He couldn’t. That was all on him.

At least he picked a restaurant close to the bar he was doing his show at. Richie wiped at his tears and climbed into the front of the car. Driving down a few streets, he walked up to the ‘Golden Rookie’ sign at the front of his favourite bar. Taking a deep breath, and willing himself not to puke, he jogged backstage to see Riley rolling her eyes at him.

“Failed date,” Richie smiled jogging on to the stage.

“Hello and goodnight, everybody!” he began, earning applause from a few of the regulars. "So, I checked Twitter this morning and..." he began slightly walking around the stage. He scanned the room, and there, far at the back was Eddie Kaspbrak, slightly smiling at the stage. Eddie was still in his work clothes, a suit and tie. His grin somehow both left and widened the moment they caught eyes.

When Richie got home that night, he thought that his set was the best one he’s done in a while. He wondered why.

Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast Eddie wondered what that sound was. It was loud, he didn’t think it was loud for anyone else. It sounded- it sounded like if a pebble hit glass without breaking it. Weird. Eddie looked around the room, the continuous clattering waking him up. “What the fuck is that?” He muttered, walking over to the window. Richie Tozier was standing outside his window, waving at him like a maniac. “What the fuck are you doing here? Its the middle of the night, Richie!” Eddie whispered loudly (he wondered how that worked) once he opened his window.

“Its actually Tuesday morning,” Richie smiled, “C’ mere!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “go to the front fucking door.”

He changed clothes quickly, trying not to look like he fixed up before seeing Richie. What was he doing? Its the middle of the- its Monday morning, and he's going to go with a stranger to who knows where. He's probably going insane. This was probably a dream, why would this happen if he were awake? Though, a part of him wished it wasn't a dream.

Down the stairs and out the door on to the porch, “What the fuck Richie? Its,” he looked at his phone, “its five in the morning.” He saw a guitar around Richie’s shoulders, (huge shoulders) deciding not to ask.

Richie hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we’re getting breakfast,” Richie said as he locks fingers with Eddie.

“Its five in the morning,” Eddie repeated.

“We’re getting breakfast.”

“At… five in the fucking morning?”

“Yup. There’s a nice diner somewhere here, we can walk.”

“I hope you know I think you’re crazy. The sun isn’t even up.” Richie just nodded.

The two walked to the diner together in silence. Eddie wasn’t uncomfortable, just, surprised. There was a ‘comfortable’ silence between the two, Eddie never really had that before. He was always used to the controlling words, and reminders and the arguing with Myra. He didn’t see his friends much because of work, so when they would meet up, there was never silence. And now there’s Richie, who he barely knows anything about, holding his hand at a time too early, as they walk towards a diner in a city Eddie doesn’t even live in. ‘Its nice’ he thinks, as they walk into the diner. It surprises Eddie, how much it looks like the diners in movies. But everything (and everyone- some more than others) in Los Angeles surprise him. ‘Most things surprise me’, he guesses, ‘I don’t go out much.’ But he knew better than that.

The two took their orders hands still intertwined under the table. “Why are we here?” Eddie asked, now sitting across from Richie.

“Ask that again in,” Richie looked down at his watch, “In 32 minutes, and 19 seconds.”

“Thats weird, but you aren’t going to tell me anything about that until then.”

“Right. So, lets talk about something else. How’d you like my show?”

“You like your praise. Its not that bad.”

“Just ‘not that bad’?”

“Yup, just ‘not that bad.’”

“I had a clear view of you from the stage. I didn’t know you could smile, Eds.”

“Don’t call me ‘Eds.’ Not my name.”

“Whatever you say, Spaghetti,” Richie said as Eddie rolled his eyes, “Do you have work today?”

“Actually, no. Bill and Mike are doing all I need today since I covered them a few days ago. Why?”

“Mind if I borrowed you for the rest of the day?” Richie smirked. (Eddie wanted to hate that smirk, he really did, he just couldn’t.)

“Yes. I do mind. I need a break.”

“Exactly, I’m giving you the world’s best break.”

Eddie sighed, “Please don’t. I’m scared.”

“Come on, I know you missed me.”

“I didn’t. I really didn’t.” He did. “You know what, whatever. Just- why am I here?”

“Look out the window,” Richie nodded.

“Look out the- what?” Eddie said, confused. He turned his head and, "Woah."

Eddie saw, through the trees and the buildings on the horizon, a soft sunrise. Whoever painted the sky in the early mornings, Eddie praised them. “Its pretty, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered, looking over at Richie, who was grinning widely.

“You should see the sunset after it rains. Its beautiful,” Richie held back, ‘kinda like you’.

#reddie #reddie fic #it #it chap one #it chap two #remembering Sunday + The book ninja au

[a-second-hand-sorrow]

Paper Rings Part 2 (Richie Tozier X Reader)

WC: 3630

Warnings: Language, kinda sexual talk, gets a bit Sad

Summary: Y/N returns to Derry with Richie, for better or worse.

A/N: Here is part 2! I was so surprised by the overwhelmingly positive reaction to the first part so here is the second part. Hope y’all enjoy (also sorry if anyone notices that the summary and stuff is slightly different, for some reason all the text in this post deleted so I’m updating it.)

The drive to Derry was surprisingly fun, full of screaming song lyrics at the top of their lungs with Richie’s hand never once leaving Y/N’s thigh. Maybe they pulled over once to fulfil Richie’s fantasy of making out in a parked car, but regardless, they got to Derry in record time.

They parked outside the Jade Orient, and Y/N could tell that Richie was starting to feel anxious. “Hey, wanna tell me what’s going through that gorgeous head of yours?” Y/N asked, shifting her position so she was facing Richie, one of her hands grasping his.

“It’s just that I haven’t been back here in so long, and I can’t remember why but I just feel like something bad happened here, and I think something bad is about to happen, Y/N.” Richie said, his voice shaking as he spoke, and Y/N felt her heart wrench.

She hated seeing Richie upset more than anything else, so she pulled him into an awkward hug, his head resting in the crook of her neck. “Rich, I’m here and I’m with you. You don’t need to worry, babe.” Y/N whispered into his hair, rubbing his shoulders soothingly.

 Richie pulled away, taking a deep breath before giving her a grateful smile. “I love you so much, Y/N/N. Let’s go.” Richie said, and Y/N felt herself smile at his words. They untangled themselves and climbed out of the car, making sure it was locked as Richie had a habit of forgetting to lock both the car and their front door.

Richie slid his hand into Y/N’s as they entered the restaurant, and she squeezed it gently to reassure him that all would be well. The overpowering smell of Chinese food caused Y/N to smile widely, remembering when she first told Richie she loved him.

“You know, if this dinner finishes quick enough, we can head back to the hotel and really make the most of that room.” Richie whispered in Y/N’s ear as they waited to be shown to their table.

“You are not getting me turned on before a dinner with your childhood friends, Richard. That is a game you do not want to start.” Y/N retorted, pointing her finger at him sternly. Richie went to respond, but the waitress arrived and guided them to their table.

Richie saw a large ceremonial gong near the table and without even thinking he ran towards it, picking up the accompanying mallet and banging the gong. The men sitting at the table all grimaced, and Y/N did too, shooting Richie a disapproving glare.

“Guess this meeting of the Loser’s Club has officially begun.” Richie said, and Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Must be an inside joke. Richie rushed to the three men sitting at the table with a look of shock on his face. Y/N stood there awkwardly as the friends reunited, rocking back and forth on her heels. She heard a few names thrown about during the conversation, and she tried to assign them correctly to faces.

“Hey Rich, would you care to introduce your friend?” The man that Y/N assumed to be Eddie said, pointing to her shyly. Richie gasped, realising he forgot to introduce Y/N. He moved over to her, placing an arm around her shoulders.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N. I go everywhere with her, and she is the best.” Richie said cheekily, and Y/N rolled her eyes at him.

“So what? Is she like a PA or something?” Eddie said and Richie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“No you fuckwit, she’s my wife.” Richie said, and Y/N couldn’t help but burst out laughing as she lifted her left hand, showing off the rings that decorated her fourth finger.

“For once in his entire life he’s not joking. I’m Y/N Tozier, pleasure to meet you all.” Y/N said, stretching her hand out to shake the hands of the other men.

“Richie, do you think you’re maybe batting out of your league at all?” Eddie commented and Richie just gave him the finger and told him to fuck off, which caused Y/N to giggle.

Pleasant conversation took place for a while, before the arrival of two more people drew their attention. Y/N turned around with Richie, and she furrowed her eyebrows at the look on his face.

“Ben, Bev, good god. You guys look amazing. What the fuck happened to me?” Richie said, standing up to greet them. They let out a polite chuckle and Y/N couldn’t help but shoot Richie a loving look.

“Ok now that everyone is here, I’m going to start eating because I’m fucking starving. Also this is Y/N, my wife.” Richie said, causing Ben and Beverly to glance between the two with shocked looks.

“I’ll give you all the brief story. We met at a party in 2009 and didn’t get together until after his SNL appearance later that year. We got engaged in 2011 and got married in 2012. I worked on SNL for a few years as a writer and now I co-write a lot of stuff with Richie.” Y/N said, taking a sip from her glass of wine once she was finished.

“Wait so does that mean Richie doesn’t write all his own jokes?” Eddie said and Y/N nodded, causing Eddie to gasp before turning to Richie.

“I knew it! I knew you didn’t write your own fucking jokes.” Eddie exclaimed, and Richie nearly choked on his spring roll as Y/N, and the rest of the table, burst out laughing.

“Oh fuck you Kaspbrak. What exactly do you do with your life, huh?” Richie retorted once he had finished eating, and Eddie adjusted his jacket almost indignantly.

“I’m a risk manager, so I go into big companies and you know… I manage risks.” Eddie said, and as if through some miracle both Y/N and Richie mocked being asleep; Richie with his head hung back, his mouth open as he faked snores and Y/N who drooped her head forward with her eyes closed. Eddie let out an offended groan, scoffing at the pair.

“Look fuck you both! That was so uncalled for.” After Eddie’s outburst the dinner progressed pretty normally, with Y/N slotting into the group quite well. The bickering between her, Richie and Eddie was next level, and her cheeks hurt from laughing by the time the main course came around.

By the end of the night they were incredibly relaxed, although the tension grew when Mike began talking about It. Y/N was understandably confused as the only outsider, but she quickly put the pieces together as soon as the fortune cookies started to dissolve into some of the most disturbing things she had ever seen.

“Richie what the fuck is going on?” Y/N said, clutching onto her husband’s arm as they backed up into one corner of the room. They were breathing fast, and Y/N let out a scream as one of the things tried to come near her.

“Get the fuck away from my wife!” Richie said, swatting at anything that got too close for comfort. Mike beat the things on the table beyond recognition with a chair, and as soon as the waitress appeared all those things harassing them disappeared.

Y/N looked around the room in shock and confusion, running a hand through her hair as she tried to process what she had just seen. She was breathing fast and hard, and it seemed that Richie could tell she was close to panicking because he cupped her face in his hands and got her to focus on her breathing. 

She started to stammer, unable to form proper sentences due to the chaos she had just witnessed. Richie shushed her gently, moving his hands so he could pull her against him. He pressed several kisses to the top of her head as she calmed down, one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her waist.

“I’ve got you, Y/N/N. I’ve got you.” Richie didn’t care that all the other Losers were watching them, some in confusion and some with an unrecognisable emotion on their face. All he cared about was making sure his wife was ok.

---------------

Y/N woke up the next morning wrapped tighter around Richie than ever before. All their limbs were tangled messily together and she was practically on top of him. As much as Y/N wanted to stay like that, she had to go get a coffee and wake herself up or else she wouldn’t leave the bed. She carefully untangled herself from Richie’s embrace and quickly threw on the closest set of clothes, which was a pair of leggings and one of Richie’s button ups, before leaving their shared room.

When she walked downstairs she found Eddie on the phone in the common area, pacing frantically as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Myra I love you but I really have to go, ok? Bye!” With that Eddie hung up, sighing as he put his phone in his pocket.

“Things on rocky ground with the wife?” Y/N said, causing Eddie to jump slightly at her sudden appearance.

“Yeah, you could say that, though I guess we’re always on rocky ground. It’s nothing like you and Richie, though.” Eddie said, and Y/N smiled as she scratched the back of her neck bashfully.

“Thanks Eddie. I’m so glad I met Richie, honestly. He’s incredible.” Y/N said, sitting down on the edge of the armchair opposite Eddie. He shot her a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes before letting out a yawn.

“I was just about to go out and get coffee, did you want some?” Y/N said, and Eddie nodded immediately, prompting Y/N to let out a chuckle as they booth stood up. The walk to the coffee shop was punctuated with small talk and the odd jab at Richie’s expense, and Y/N felt glad that she was getting to know her husband’s childhood best friend.

“Look Y/N, can I be completely honest with you?” Eddie said while they were waiting for the coffee, and Y/N nodded, though she couldn’t help the rising feeling of anxiety that hit her thanks to Eddie’s words.

“I genuinely cannot think of a better person for Richie to be with than you. I have never seen him as happy and relaxed as he was last night, and I can tell that he would probably die for you if it came down to it, and from what I’ve seen, I’m pretty sure you’d do the same.” Eddie said with such a genuine tone that it took Y/N a bit by surprise. The smile on Y/N’s face was so wide, and she couldn’t help but pull Eddie into a brief but tight hug.

“Thank you, and trust me when I say that I know my husband, and I know how much you mean to him as well.”

------------

Never in her wildest dreams did Y/N think she would be in the sewers underneath her husband’s hometown, about to battle a giant, horrifying clown-spider hybrid, but life did always tend to surprise her.

“You wanna play truth or dare? Well you’re a sloppy bitch!” Richie shouted at the monster before relaying a whole heap of other insults. Y/N was standing behind Richie, clutching his hand tightly in both support and utter fear.

Suddenly Richie was silence, and he began to levitate with an unnatural golden glow in his eyes. “What the fuck did you do to my husband you bitch ass clown?” Y/N called, feeling her hand fall out of Richie’s as he continued to ascend. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she looked up at Richie, hoping and praying to any god that would listen that he made it out alive.

“The deadlights… we have to do something!” Beverly said, looking around at the group for some support. Before anyone could do or say anything, the sound of thundering footsteps alerted everyone’s attention, and suddenly Eddie was launching a pike into the open face of the clown. The hold on Richie was immediately lost and he dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

Eddie and Y/N immediately rushed to him, making sure he wasn’t injured or unconscious. “Richie, I did it! I killed It, Richie!” Eddie said excitedly, full of joy and pride. Y/N gave Eddie a warm smile before turning her gaze to Richie, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

Richie let out a groan, nuzzling his face into Y/N’s hand as he came back to reality. “You guys… you saved me.” Richie mumbled, and both Eddie and Y/N chuckled lightly.

“Actually Rich, that was all… EDDIE!” Y/N called out, pushing the shorter brunette out of the way. Due to her position she saw that It was in fact still alive, and incredibly angry. It swung one of its claws in their direction, and without thinking Y/N shoved Eddie out of the line of potential injury. The adrenaline was pumping and she didn’t even register what had happened until she felt a searing pain in her abdomen.

“Y/N oh my god!” Richie said, catching her as she stumbled from the impact. All of Richie’s fears were coming true in the form of seeing Y/N wounded and bleeding in his arms.

“Jesus Christ Y/N, you didn’t need to… I could’ve…” Eddie stammered, moving to support her other side.

“Easy boys, tis but a scratch.” Y/N mumbled, starting to feel a little weak but keeping it together for the sake of her husband and his friend.

“Y/N you’re... Jesus you’re almost fucking dying and you’re fucking quoting Monty Python. I know you’re my dream woman but god at what cost.” Richie said, the pitch of his voice raising due to the tears that started to flow from his eyes.

“Rich, if I don’t get out of here.” Y/N said, and Richie made several noises of protest, shaking his head as tears blurred his vision.

“Don’t you say that, Y/N Tozier, don’t you fucking dare say that. We’re getting you out of here. I cannot and will not have you die on my watch, because god forbid if you do, who else am I supposed to love? Who else am I supposed to have a family with? Who else am I supposed to grow old with? I don’t want that with anyone but you, Y/N. Fuck.” Richie said, sobbing openly as he cradled Y/N close to his chest. 

Richie didn’t care that he had his wife’s blood staining his shirt and his hands. He just wanted to get her out of here alive and spend the rest of his life with her, like they promised each other they would all those years ago. He wasn’t a religious man, but he was praying to god that he would spare Y/N.

Richie didn’t move from Y/N’s side until they were sure It was well and truly dead. He had used his button up to stop the bleeding, and he just kept talking to her to stop her from going to sleep, but it worked. Carrying Y/N was tricky due to the tight and narrow spaces they had to get through to get out, but they quickly made it to the surface.

“We have to get her to a hospital.” Richie said, holding Y/N in his arms as she let out a groan of pain. That groan sent a knife through Richie’s heart, and he instinctively tightened his grip on her.

“We’re gonna make it, Y/N. I promise.”

 --------------

Y/N awoke to the sound of soft snoring and the incessant beeping of a monitor of some sort. She felt a dull ache in her lower torso, and when she opened her eyes she was met with a fierce brightness that caused her to let out a groan. It was when she started to wake that she felt a weight in her right hand, and she could only guess that it belonged to Richie.

“Rich.” She said softly, her own voice sounding almost alien after having not used it for so long. The soft snores of the brunette opposite her were quickly replaced by a gasp as Richie realised that she was awake.

“Y/N? Oh my god you’re awake.” Richie exclaimed, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it a dozen times over. Y/N gave him a weak smile, blushing slightly at the gesture. Even after several years of marriage he still managed to make her blush.

“How long was I out?” Y/N asked, trying to sit up but wincing when she was hit with a rush of burning pain.

“Don’t push yourself Y/N, you might tear some stitches. You’ve been out for about a day. They operated and everything is fine, but you’re going to need a lot of recovery time. You nearly died, Y/N.” Richie said, his voice trailing off as he began to dwell on the events of the past day. Y/N could sense this, and she squeezed Richie’s hand tighter to let him know that she was ok. She didn’t die down there, he didn’t have to worry.

Suddenly they heard the sound of the door opening, and Y/N gave the visitor a half smile. It was Eddie, who came into the room meekly clutching a bouquet of flowers. They were by no means the best and brightest, but Y/N appreciated the gesture.

“Hey man, is she good?” Eddie asked, placing the flowers on a table next to Y/N’s bed.

“She’s awake, thank you very much Kaspbrak.” Y/N said, and Eddie’s face seemed to light up.

“Oh Y/N I’m so glad you’re ok. We were all worried sick, but no one more than Richie. I don’t think he’s left this chair since you got here. I think he nearly fought a nurse when they tried to get him out to do the surgery.” Eddie said, waving his hands about as he spoke.

Y/N went to laugh but stopped when she felt that ache in her torso again, and settled for just smiling at Eddie and squeezing Richie’s hand again. “Thanks Eddie, and Richie I won’t be offended if you leave, at the very least to take a shower. I’m not going to be kissing or fucking my husband if he smells like a literal sewer.”

Richie let out a genuine laugh, as did Eddie, and he shrugged his shoulders before standing up. He groaned at the feeling of tension in his muscles before leaning down to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead.

“If I head to the hotel and scrub up before coming back here, will I be receiving any kisses?” Richie asked and Y/N smirked as she nodded her head.

“Maybe even a handjob if I’m feeling generous.” She said, and Richie’s eyes widened behind his giant glasses. He threw his head back and muttered a thank you to god before kissing Y/N’s forehead once more.

“You’re the best wife a man could ask for, Y/N. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows as he left the room, much to Eddie’s disgust.

“You guys are perfect for each other. Sharp, funny, and gross enough to keep everyone on their toes.” Eddie said and Y/N nodded her head, a loving smile on her face.

“Thanks Eddie. So, is there any reason you decided to stop by and see little old me?” Y/N asked, and Eddie nodded, crossing his legs as he turned to face Y/N.

“I want to say thank you. You saved my fucking life down there, and I’ll always be grateful for that. I know we only just met but I feel like I’ve known you for a lot longer. That could just be because Richie doesn’t shut up about you, but you get what I mean.” Eddie said, and Y/N reached out her hand, gesturing for Eddie to come closer to her.

He stood up and walked to her bedside, and Y/N lightly grasped one of Eddie’s hands. “Eddie, don’t forget that you saved Richie’s life down there. Do you know how goddamn happy it makes me to know that you care so much for Richie that you would risk your actual life? I practically owe you my life, Eddie, so thank you.” Y/N said, and Eddie gave her a smile that seemed to have a bittersweet feel to it.

Eddie went to say something but was cut off by Richie’s sudden reappearance in the room. “I might’ve lied about the twenty minutes part. Turns out I can shower a lot quicker than that. So, Y/N, are you going to be keeping your earlier promise?” Richie said suggestively, strolling over to the side of Y/N’s bed and kissing her on the cheek. Eddie stepped to the side and retreated back to his chair, watching the display with a slightly heavy heart.

Y/N just rolled her eyes, leaning up to kiss Richie for the first time since the sewer encounter. How so much passion and emotion could be contained in one kiss she had no idea, but it almost left her head reeling when they broke apart.

“Ok I can’t let this slide. Richie, I saved your fucking life down there so just saying, I think you should name a kid after me.” Eddie burst out suddenly, and both Y/N and Richie let out a laugh at the exclamation.

“I love you man, but that’s a bit too much. What do you think Y/N?” Richie said, and Y/N simply shrugged, making eye contact with Eddie as she did so.

Little did they know that in another two years they would be in another hospital in a similar set up, except with Y/N clutching little Eddie Tozier in her arms as the two men stared in awe at the beautiful boy, with nothing but joy filling the room.

#it #it 2019 #it chapter 2 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #bill hader #paper rings #paper rings universe

[nemo1230]

Quite unexpected turn of events

Eddie's head was pounding, and he felt like absolute shit. Also for some reason his wrist burned a little. With a lot of effort he opened his eyes, letting the bright morning rays of sun reach his eyes. It stung and he groaned. He turned his head to the side, glancing at the clock standing on the nightstand. Turns out these definitely weren't morning rays of sun but the middle of the day sun rays. This was unusual for him, since he liked to wake up early. But after the whole mess with regaining memories worth 27 years and fighting a demonic clown, he was exhausted, so these past days he did find himself sleeping in quite often. So, that wasn't the odd part about this whole situation.

What was weird, however, was the fact that he felt like he had threw up in his own mouth or something and the annoying ache in his head. But that's how he sometimes felt after a practically bad nightmare, which he had pretty often now. But the thing is, he hadn't had a nightmare, he had actually slept quite well. Also, the weird burning on his wrist was announcing it's presence once again, so he tried to lift his arm to see what the hell is up with it, to be met with the fact that he was unable to move his arm. The reason? The owner of birds nest of hair, huge glasses and most handsome face Eddie had ever seen, laying and drooling right over it. Ah, Richie.

Wait.

Richie as in the very Richie Tozier, his best friend, that he had had a crush on for practically his whole life, was in the same bed with him, cuddling with him? What in the name of god-

Suddenly a very paralyzing thought hit Eddie - had they slept together?! No, that couldn't be, they still had their clothes on, thank god. Not that he didn't want to sleep with Richie, he just simply wanted to remember sleeping with Richie.

Because right now he couldn't properly remember anything. Everything about last night seemed fuzzy, parts of the evening came back him, but he couldn't really piece them together.

He just knew that after defeating Pennywise the losers had left Derry and started to rebuild their lives. Eddie called Mayra and had had probably the most uncomfortable and unpleasant conversation in his entire life, requesting a divorce. He remembers a lot of screaming on her end and a lot of apologizing on his. After that he had went with Richie to LA. A rather harsh and fast decision for his tastes, but then again, after barely escaping death he now felt more at ease, more free, more willing to let go ,to just say fuck it, to not deny himself the things he wanted.

So yeah, he and Richie have been living together for about a month now. One evening they had decided it would be a great idea to invite all the other losers for a sleepover to Richie's apartment.

And it really would have been all fun and games if they wouldn't have gotten drunk out of their minds. But they did, so here Eddie was, left with no memory of last night, a pounding head, and Richie curled up right next to him.

Speaking of the devil, Richie snorted in his sleep, but then groaned and stretched out like a cat, then turned around to face Eddie, eyes still closed. Eddie held his breath while he watched the scene unravel, waiting for the moment Richie would finally come to his senses, probably apologize for falling asleep on him, even though this is his room, because no matter what, he still was a gentleman, and they'd never speak of this incident again.

What happened, however, was not exactly that. Richie opened his eyes, looked at Eddie, flashed him a crooked smile, leaned forward and pecked him right on the lips.

''Mornin', babe.''

Eddie eyes widened and he froze, unable to form a coherent thought. What the hell-

Eddies unresponsiveness finally made Richie register what he had just done. His eyes widened aswell and his mouth hung open, trying to say something, but no sound came out.

They simply stared at each other for a while, probably looking dumb as fuck, until Richie scrambled out of the bed, tripping over the sheets, and run out of the room, murmuring something about needing to take a shower, cheeks red.

Eddies own cheeks were warming up, and his lips felt like they were on fire.

He still tried to recover from what just happened when he heard voices from outside the room. Right, the rest of the losers were still here. Whatever had happened last night, he knew it must be something embarrassing, it always was, and he could already feel the teasing coming. But he had to get out of the room at some point, because his stomach was protesting loudly about the lack of food in him.

Eddie got out of the bed, smoothed out his clothes, run his hand trough his hair, a quite bad attempt to smooth it out, took  a deep breath and pushed the door open.

He was met with bright sunlight and quite the chaos of Richie's living room. Cups and plastic plates were thrown everywhere, as well as pieces of popcorn and m&ms. There were also empty bottles of alcohol and pizza boxes. Eddie scrunched up his nose at the mess and walked trough, heading towards the kitchen, to get a glass of water, hoping to slip past his friends unnoticed, because, okay, maybe he didn't want to face them just yet.

But just as about anything in his life, that didn't work out because a voice stopped him in his tracks.

''Look who's finally up! Eddie, sweetheart, how are you feeling?''

It was Beverly, who was currently tying her hair into a tiny ponytail. She looked just fine, like she hadn't had gotten wasted with them just a few hours prior. She was always the one who took alcohol the best. She also had a mischievous grin on her face that never meant anything good. Oh, lord, help him please.

''Morning, Bev, just peachy, and you? '' He replied, doing an over enthusiastic voice.

''Awh, Eddie, you truly are the lightweight of this family.'' she said, smirking.

''Well, to be fair him and Richie last n-'' Ben, who was currently trying to pick up all the plastic cups off the floor started, but was cut off by Richie entering the living room.

''Sup, hoes, how are we feeling this fine morning?!'' He exclaimed rather loudly. His dark curls were damp from the shower and he had changed into some sweatpants and a sweater. He looked way too good for a 40 year old man, in Eddie's opinion.

Bev completely ignored Richies question, her smirk only growing wider, and said, ''Well, well, well, look who it is. Finally both of the lovebirds have left their love lair, to join us peasants, who clearly aren't worth your time!'' Her voice held no anger, just pure smugness, like she just proved a point, eyes darting from Richie to Eddie and then back.

Richie let out a bark of laughter but Eddie saw a flash of fear in his eyes, but he quickly recovered. ''Bev, honey, what the hell are you talking about? Are you still drunk because – ''

Bev was quick to cut him off, ''Oh, don't play dumb, Rich, you know full well what I'm talking about.''

Eddie saw the rest of the losers trying to hide their laughter, barely holding it in. Expect Stan, who was looking at something on his phone, looking absolutely unbothered by the whole situation.

''No, I actually don't, what is going on, guys?'' Now Richie really did sound confused.

Beverly was about to say something else, when Mike gently interrupted, ''Bev, I think they genuinely don't know,'' he said sympathetically, all the while hiding a smile of his own.

''No, we don't, so would you like to elaborate? '' Eddie finally spoke, dread already setting in his stomach. Whatever had happened last night, the rest of their friends are not going to let them live this down, that's for sure.

Beverly turned to Stan saying, ''Stan, would you like to do the honors?''

Stan then looked up from his phone, fixed Eddie and Richie with an unimpressed look and cleared his throat. ''Gladly. So, as we all remember, Richie and Eddie invited us all to this lovely gathering, completely unsuspecting of the ordeals that would later take place. We all got here, talked, drunk a few glasses of wine and then, this man right here, '' he then gestured to Richie, ''comes up with the brilliant idea, that we should play some games. We decided on truth or dare. So, a lot of stupid dares and alcohol later, it was Richie's turn to choose, truth or dare. He had chosen dare. Ben, here, '' he then gestured to Ben for emphasis, ''came up with this wonderful dare – sing karaoke with one other person of your choice. And that they had to sing whichever song came on next on the radio. So, I think we all can guess which person he chose, but if anybody else here is suffering a memory loss, then he chose Eddie. Eddie, being quite intoxicated himself had agreed. The song they had to sing turned out to be Africa by TOTO. The performance, well, wasn't too great, but we all could feel the intense emotions behind it, so I'd give it a solid 7 out of 10. Anyways, by the end of the song, these two lovely gentlemen shared quite the moment, staring intensely into each others eyes for approximately minute and a half. We all thought a kiss was coming, I personally was about to ask everyone to hand over their money to me, but then suddenly an unexpected turn of events occurred. Richie, while still staring into Eddies eyes loudly exclaimed an offer – and I quote – ''do you want to get matching tattoos'', to which Eddie replied and I quote - ''absolutely''. Then they both hurried to grab their coats, and Richie tried to grab his car keys, to which Eddie screamed –''no, we're both drunk!'', to which Richie replied ''aw shit! '', and then came Eddies reply – ''call a taxi dumbass!''. And that was that.  All of us were shocked to the core, unable to make sense of this sudden occurrence. When the shock wore off, we decided to check on you two. At first, none of you answered your phones, but then, when logging onto social media we quite quickly learned that you two are just fine. On Instagram Richie had posted these pictures,'' the he proceeded to quickly tap something on his phone and then held it up. On the screen, he had opened Richies instagram account and a picture in which Eddie could be seen in the taxi, laughing at something. Then, when everyone had looked at the picture, Stan swiped left, revealing a second picture in which him and Eddie were holding up their intertwined hands, Eddie showing a peace sign with this free hand, both looking absolutely wasted. But the worst part was the caption, which read ''lmao i want to climb him like a tree'' with a tree emoji and the rain/water drop emoji, which in its whole history had never been used to describe rain or water. Eddie was pretty sure his cheeks had never felt this hot in his entire life.

Richie was about to say something, but then Stan snatched the phone away, held up his finger, silencing him and continued, '' Anyway, after that we knew you two were completely fine, aswell as I could finally successfully collect the money we all bet on you two. However, unfortunately that's not where it ended. Later, we went on Twitter and noticed that Richie had tweeted and I quote - ''yoo bitches heres some tea i have the big homo for eddie spagethii oof sksks'' and then made several other tweets which only contained Eddies Twitter handle. Eddie had replied with only Richies twitter handle. I think that's all. Oh wait, right, Richie commented on all of Eddies Instagram posts with things like 'damn daddy' or 'what a piece of ass' '',Stan said while doing air quotes. ''Okay, I think that would be all.''

Finally, after Stans dramatic summery of their last nights adventures, the memories finally came back. The singing, the posting all those dumb things, the kissing on street, kissing at the back of a taxi, kissing, kissing… Eddie had never been this embarrassed in this life. He already predicted that whatever they had done last night would be bad, but not this much.

Even Richie seemed at loss of words. His eyes were wide and even his cheeks were in a blushing shade of pink.

''I tweeted that?!'' He then shouted.

''And got it trending,'' Stan replied, pointing at him.

''And got it trending?!'' Richie repeated, still screaming.

Now, that the bomb had been dropped, the rest of the losers stopped trying to hold back their laughter.

Richie and Eddie then shared a hopeless look. Richie snorted and Eddie did too and held his hand over his mouth. Richie crossed the room, coming to stand next to Eddie.

''Well, those really are some unexpected turns of events, Eds. '' He said, a sweet smile now decorating his face.

Eddie signed, ''I've never been more embarrassed in my life.''

''Looks like I didnt even do anything wrong when we woke up, '' he smirked, '' Also, while I must admit that this was not how I imagined confessing my feelings to you, I am happy that I did anyway.'' He said, slowly reaching for Eddies hand.

Eddie took it, and intertwined their fingers. ''Yeah, me too.. '' Then a sudden itch on his wrist reminded him of something. He quickly let go of Richies hand and pushed up the sleeve of his sweater.  

There, on his skin, now lay R+E in simple writing and black ink. He simply started at the letters until Richie pushed his own wrist next to his. He had the same simple letters, only in switched places – E+R.

Eddie looked at the tattoos and was surprised that he didn't regret it. Even though they had gotten them while being completely wasted, he still felt no shame, no regret about that. He smiled and looked up, into Richies eyes. ''They're kinda cute. ''

''You think so? I was thinking maybe I could add '+ Eddie's mom' -''

Eddie only rolled his eyes. ''Beep-beep Richie.'' He then signed and intertwined their hands once again and leaned into his side.

The embarrassment was still burning a hole in him, but despite it all, he felt content. For the first time in so long, he felt good.

#reddie #reddie fic #reddie au #eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #IT movie #it 2019 #stan and eddie are alive #and whoever disagrees is a coward and a moran #i said what i said #nemo writes #lmao i dunno what even was this tho xd

[hamletkin]

ramble about the birds!

This is so sweet?? Like thank you so much. I posted that so long ago and it meant a lot to me thinking about all of the characters in that capacity and I spent a very long time on it and I know I basically asked for this but the fact that you took the time to actually ask it of me means just so much and I’m gay thank you!! On to the birds!! 

Bill Denbrough (Mourning Dove): Cliche? Maybe. Mourning Doves are one of the most common birds in North America. You have probably seen thousands of them in your life. Their call sounds like a human crying and while Bill is definitely a person filled with grief and guilt over the death of his brother (fitting) that’s not the reason he is, to Stan, a Mourning Dove. The reasoning behind this choice stems from three key things! Two are logical, as Stan is, in that the Mourning Dove is a sociable and adaptable bird! It’s capable of living nearly anywhere! It can drink the nastiest of water and live just fine, thank you very much! The final reason comes from the fact that the Mourning Dove is a symbol of Hope. For Stan it doesn’t feel like it’s a religious or spiritual hope at all. It’s just a feeling that comes from Bill. Like with him everything is a little less murky, everything is a little less illogical, the world is a lot less of a mess even if the Losers themselves are messes. Stan has seen countless Mourning Doves in his lifetime but he doesn’t think their numbers make them any less special or any less beautiful. On the contrary, they’re a steady presence and image in his life and maybe he doesn’t know why he’s so excited to see even them having a dust bath but it makes him feel at peace. 

Ben Hanscom (Red Breasted Nuthatch): Beep Beep, Richie. It’s not funny. Red Breasted Nuthatches are monogamous song birds and who better to fit this role than Ben, our pining poet friend? They’re quiet birds and beautiful with their plump barrel chests. Stan chose this bird to represent Ben due, also, to how clever it is. These birds seemingly have found a way around the laws of gravity as they can climb along branches in any manner they please and they create their own safe homes in trees as a pair and smear sap around the entrance to trap and dissuade predators from entering. This makes then, in Stan’s opinion, one of the best and cleverest builders with that extra step taking for protection. He has seen a few of them down in the Barrens in the trees, singing their tinny song for their mates. 

Beverly Marsh (Rufous Hummingbird): Though it’s typically the males that have a reddish colored head the female Rufous Hummingbird often has beautiful orange plumage that Stan finds awfully reminiscent of Beverly. The females are also larger than the males. But it’s not just for surface value that Stanley chose a Rufous Hummingbird for Beverly! These birds are nearly constantly moving, they build their homes in defensive hidden locations and will attack other birds in their territory including much larger birds, squirrels, and chipmunks. They will end your life and Stan would love to watch in wonder as they do. They are incredibly brave and defensive birds who will defend their own. Stan has never seen one but he’d like to visit the West Coast someday so that he can. He’s sure they’ll pale in comparison to Bev...but it would still be a good experience. They’re seen as a symbol of love and the Losers love her so much!! They’d die for her. 

Eddie Kaspbrak (Magpie): Specifically the black-billed magpie! These are loud and beautiful birds. They typically mate for life and when one pair dies it’s not uncommon for them to not take another mate. They also have been recorded getting divorced, so jot that down for the future, Eddie. Stan thinks a divorce proceeding between birds sounds hilarious and while he knows, of course, that there’s no Bird Court a magpie is already perfectly dressed to play a judge. Magpies often are seen to represent deceit and trickery and while that may to speak to Eddie’s mother, Stanley sees only how clever Eddie is. If he’s deceitful to anyone it’s his mother and as far as Stan is concerned, she deserves it. He doesn’t see Magpies as “tricky” so much as just incredibly intelligent and the bird is symbolic, in his opinion of a need to grow and to be bold and how sometimes, like the Magpie, you have to put yourself in danger to accomplish anything. Eddie is a lot braver than he thinks he is and that’s so evident in the way he puts himself in harm’s way for his friends!! Just like a Magpie!!! They are solitary birds but sometimes form loose flocks. Amazing birds!!!!!!! BRAVE BIRDS!!!! Eddie Kaspbrak. They also mourn the loss of their loved ones, how incredible is that?!? Oh geez, I just love them I’m sorry. 

Richie Tozier (Nightingale): Nightingales are songbirds with some of the most beautiful singing voices. The sing night and day though only unpaired males sing at night, sort of like they’re pining. They are symbols representing longing and they are exceptionally hard workers though they seem to do everything with ease they’re experts at hiding just how hard they do work. They’re also smart and tricky birds The louder their surroundings, the louder they sing, just like Richie, right? Stan would love to hear and see them in person but so far he’s only heard them on a nature special. He thinks they’re probably one of the most incredible birds out there. They have a very strong migratory instinct, so much that they often kill themselves in captivity in trying to follow that instinct. Another tidbit Stan finds interesting is their ability to create over one thousand sounds which is an exceptional amount in comparison to most other birds!! They’re talented and bright and Stanley doesn’t care how common they are in literature; he thinks they’re the perfect fit for Richie Tozier. 

Mike Hanlon (Northern Flicker): These are gorgeous birds! They’re woodpeckers who spend more time on the ground than in trees because that’s where they like to forage. Stanley has seen them before on walks through the Barrens or past the fields. They are resourceful birds and they can eat plants that are poisonous to humans and other animals. This Northern species typically migrate South for the winter including to some regions in Florida. Stan likes to discuss following this migration with Mike even though he’d never tell any of them which birds he sees them as. It’s just a personal thing for him. Some of them never migrate depending on how far North they live. Cough. They often repair broken nests even if they prefer to carve out their own. They’re also intelligent and defensive birds. Like!!! They’re so smart they’ll bang on things like metal or trees or rocks sometimes so loudly it can be heard a half mile away! And it’s super effective! Stanley thinks that’s just so incredible to see

Stanley Uris (Gray Catbird): Catbirds are one of Stanley’s favorite birds. They’re quite common in Derry but he likes seeing them. They’re sort of plain to look at but are personable and Stan thinks there’s something beautiful about their uniform grey feathers. They make a cat-like sound but they can also mimic other birds and animals. They like hiding in thickets and will sing loudly unless faced with predators or potential mates where its song becomes softer. They aren’t typically afraid of predators and have been known to attack them and Stan both admires and envies that. Would he be able to do the same if his friends needed it? He hopes so. 

I’m going to do another post for the rest of the birds because this got crazy long but thank you so much again!

#stanley uris #the losers club #losers club #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #it 2017 #it 2019 #birds #headcanons #stanley uris headcanons #Anonymous

[beepbeeprichiellc]

46 plzzzz

46.Post Break up Kiss- The kiss that catches you both offguard, but says I miss you, I’m sorry and please love me all again all at oncewithout any words being said

Trigger Warning: This has some very deep, very personal descriptions of depression. It was very hard to write and only scratches the surface of a deeper issue but please be cautious before reading, please

It had been raining all week, the sky wept as it seeminglysang the sad song of Eddie’s life. It was like a ballad that would never end,the pain acting like a cycle, bringing the storm back every night, when the sunwas nestled in west and the monsters crawled from their hiding spots.

He had thought that eventually, it would have all gotten better.That their love would become nothing more than a faint memory that could nevertouch him again but as time passed, and life continued, he knew that aching inhis heart was there to stay. And stay it did.

So he went on with his life, dragging his feet against theconcrete, forcing himself to push forward and hoping for something that hefeared would never come. Salvation was a bit of a reach, so he would settlewith normality and would build on top of that. However, he was never able tobuild too high for each storm that hit the hustle and bustle outside hit himtenfold, tearing down what he had spent hours building and leaving him with nothing.

It was at night that he allowed himself to crumble with hisshattered normality, gripping on to what his lover had left behind, and prayingfor some kind of light to return to his life. The name would fall from his lipslike a prayer, the tears like a river, washing away the sins of the past. Yes,night was his lowest point and as the sun rose he would gather himself, showerand begin the cycle over again.

His friends helped, their words of encouragement like badgesthat they pinned to his chest. He carried these with him throughout the day,before shedding them with his clothes each night. During his weakest times ithad been his friends that had kept him sane, the days passing by agonizinglyslow as he stood aside and let the time pass.

Yes, someday things would be just as good as they had been, maybeeven better he hoped, but for now he settled with what he had, waiting out thestorm of his life and praying for the calm after. Because what else was thereto do? The damage was done, the wounds were healing and the only thing thatcould save him was his own grace. Time, it seemed, was what he needed.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” Beverlyasked, walking beside him, a hop in her step that seemed to radiate happiness.

Eddie offered a small smile, shrugging. “I don’t want to bethat guy but I know Richie will probably be-“

“Oh come on, its Ben’s birthday. I know he would want youthere.” She sang, slinging her arm through his as they crossed the street. “Besides,it’s been like six months, can’t you two just be civil?”

He could feel his depression brimming, the storm rising inthe horizon, taking a deep breath he swallowed it back down. “I can be civilbut it still hurts Bev, and I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“Eddie, come on.” She pleaded, rubbing his arm for support. “Youdon’t even have to speak to him just be there for Ben, just stop by at least.”

“Yeah okay.” He sighed in defeat, “I’ll stop by, for Ben,and for you.”

Beverly beamed.

The mirror was playing tricks on him. That had to be itbecause the man staring back at him looked nothing like the one who had stood theresix months ago. His short torso was thinned, his hipbones pultruding throughhis skin. The once full face that he had carried with him since his childhood wasgone, replaced with sunken eyes and defined cheek bones. His hair was longernow, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken himself out to go getit cut, now wishing that he had noticed before. Although he wasn’t able to seeit, the glimmer that he had in his eyes was gone as well, the dullness nowgazing back at himself.

It was days like this that he wasn’t sure who he wasanymore.

His phone’s ring tone pulled him from his pity party,throwing him back in to the harsh world with an auditable thud. With a sigh he answered,reading the name three times before doing so. “Hey Bill.” He muttered to the receiver,grabbing his shirt from the bed and pulling it over his head. “What’s up?”

“Beverly told me you were coming to Ben’s birthday dinner,is that right?”

“Yeah, I said I’d stop by.”

“Eddie.” Bill whispered, his tone low and worrisome. “Youknow Richie’s here right?”

“I know.” Eddie admitted, sighing in defeat. Maybe he wasn’tas strong as he thought, maybe the storm was arriving early tonight. “I thoughtI could handle it, that I could just get by without confrontation.”

“You don’t need this, you are still recovering from your, um”Depression. Bill was never able to say it, never able to admit that Eddie haddipped so low in his live that the monster that had once haunted him was nowclawing its way in to his best friend. “I don’t want you to take a step back, Idon’t want you to come unless you’re ready.”

“But Beverly-“

“Has no idea what it’s like. I do. She wants you to be happybut doesn’t understand that sometimes pushing only makes things worse.” Therewas a ragged breath, the shards of his confession digging deep into Eddie’stender flesh. “Just think about it, I’m telling you it’s okay to stay home, ifthat’s what you really want.”

What he really wants? What Eddie really wanted, what hewished above all else was to recover, for the monster that had nestled in hisheart to die a painful death but sometimes hang ups and set backs were all thatit needed to dig deeper into his soul. He wanted to feel okay, just for amoment he wanted to break free of the water and take that initial breath offreedom. He was drowning, and the storm was pushing him further down.

“I understand.” Eddie finally whispered, tears burning hiseyes. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll talk to you later Bill, tell Ben that I’m sorry.” Hedidn’t wait for a response, instead hanging up the phone and dropping it to thefloor. So the storm was going to come early tonight, he thought, so fucking beit.

Each breath burned his lungs, the pain radiating not only inhis chest, but throughout his entire body. His fingers bit in to the fabric ofhis comforter, silent tears soaking through to the fibers. Rain crashed againstthe window like bullets, loudly filling the air with its sad song. Every sooften lightening would flash, illuminating the small room before plunging itback in to darkness.

The storm. The crimpling depression. It was all too familiar,and still he welcomed it because at least now he could actually feel somethingrather than being numb to it all. Pain was pain, but nothing was even worse.

There was a knock at his door, the demanding noise makingEddie jump in surprise. He waited with baited breath, hoping that he it hadbeen the storm. When the noise came again he cursed, forcing himself out ofbed. It took a moment but eventually he found his robe, tightly wrapping itaround his waist like a protective barrier.

When he made it to the door the knocking hand becomefrantic, the obnoxious bangs becoming louder than the thunder. “Holy fuckingshit.” Eddie growled, opening the door and allowing the chain to catch itsweight. “It’s two in the fucking morning what do you-“

He was cut off by the burning in his throat, the man beforehim leaned against the door frame, his broken smile growing at the sight ofEddie. “Richie? What in the hell are you doing here.”

“I needed to see you.” He choked, pushing his soaking hairfrom his face and readjusting his wet glasses along his nose. “You weren’t atdinner and I need to see you.”

“Go home.” Eddie nipped, ignoring the pull in his chest. “You’redrunk.”

“I don’t drink anymore, I’ve been sober ever since-“Hestopped and Eddie prayed he wouldn’t finish his sentence, the memory of thatnight still burning behind his eyes. “I know it’s late and I’m sorry for thatbut please let me in.”

“No.” Eddie whispered, “No, go away.”

“I went to that stupid dinner just to see you again, to talkto you and you weren’t there, why weren’t you there?” Richie whined, his ownpain interlacing itself in his question.

“I couldn’t make it.” Eddie replied coldly, fighting backhis tears. “I got caught up with stuff.”

“I begged Beverly to get you there I-I got on my knees andbegged and you still weren’t there. Fuck, I said some stupid stuff, admittedsome painful things and still-“He laughed, his voice hallow distant, void of humorentirely. “I should have stopped you, should have ran after you and I didn’t becauseI’m a fucking coward. I’m a cowered Eddie and I should have done everything inmy power to keep you with me because I’m a mess, a fucking train wreck withoutyou.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He whimpered, not believingthe fantasy that was unfolding before him. This was a cruel trick, a dream.Richie wouldn’t come here, he wouldn’t say these things. Eddie felt his chestache, his want for salvation scorching his skin. “Why are you here?”

“Let me in.” Richie pleaded, the storm pelting him withrain. “Please.”

Eddie debated shutting him down, just telling him no andclosing the door, forever cutting him off. Everything would remain the same,only now he would have to carry the guilt of what could have been. With a squeezeof his eyes and a few escaped tears he shut the door and removed the chain, reopeningit fully.

And then he waited.

Richie stated at him, his brilliant auburn eyes inspectinghis now skeleton like figure making Eddie self-conscious. Not that he lookedany better, his eyes were now encased in dark circles, the soaked clothes hewore hung from his lanky frame like they were on a wire. It was like lookinginto a mirror, only this time it showed you your medicine rather than you disease.

Then Richie closed the gap between them, pulling Eddie tohis chest effortlessly. There was a moment before their lips touched, a splitsecond when Richie lingered a few centimeters away, his breath washing overEddie like a heartwarming shower. Then they kissed, and the world melted away.

It said so many things, and nothing at once. Like the riseand fall of the past six months, Eddie rode out the waves, holding on to Richiefor dear life and praying that he wouldn’t drown. Calloused hands found Eddie’sface, tracing his cheek gently as if creating a master piece just for him. Eddiecould feel the spark between them, its shock awakening something inside of him.The connection was powerful and strong but also weak and vulnerable.

When they finally pulled apart Richie buried his face in tothe crevice of Eddies shoulder and sobbed. He sobbed painfully loud, his handsclutching on to Eddie’s robe, begging for validation. Eddie took a breath, thefreeing feeling granting him admittance to the world above his storm, above hissorrow and pain.

The depression wasn’t gone, and perhaps it never would be,but in that moment and the moments that fallowed Eddie was granted salvation,granted freedom from his own cycle and started anew.

He was going to be okay, and that was all that mattered.

[sourskittlesberryjuice]

Club Raven: Chapter Two - Anemone

Fic AO3 Master Post Link: https://thesquidliesthuman.tumblr.com/post/175723803062/fic-ao3-link-master-post

Bill sat in a circle with his friends, Bev and Eddie, in the living room of their small shared apartment. They were just sort of talking about whatever had come to mind. A new movie that was soon to release, a test that they had just taken in one of their many courses, or maybe even an odd dream that one of them had had.

That’s one of the things Bill loved about his friends, was that he could talk to them about anything under the sun. Like that jackass, dark haired kid with the coke bottle glasses from one of Bill’s classes who frequently sang a song about ‘you and your johnson’, claiming it was actually from a boat commercial. Another favorite among the many annoying things he happened to do was talk about his ‘peanut butter ayds’, which was supposedly a weight loss candy. Of course, that’s a story for another time, a tale for another day.

As they were sitting in their circle and just letting words fall out of their mouths, the conversation bouncing around back and forth, the attention soon turned to Bev as she started gushing about a man named Ben.

“He’s so sweet, and kind! I can pretty much talk forever and he just sits there with this fond smile on his face and watches,” Bev went on, her cheeks lightly dusted with a rosy pink as her hands waved wildly.

Bill wasn’t exactly sure who Ben was to Beverly. She never mentioned a relationship with the fellow but with the way she talked about him she might as well be a lovesick girl in middle school all over again.

Beverly went on a little longer and then looked over to Eddie, lightly elbowing their shorter, tanner friend in the side. “So, Eddie, what about Mike? How’s he?”

Eddie flushed a cherry red, looking down in his lap and twiddling his thumbs for a moment before looking up again, “he’s very charming, but I kind of expected that, I guess. He’s patient, definitely. And he has this like, look in his eyes. I don’t know how to explain it, exactly, it’s like he’s an old soul. It’s cute.”

Bill looked to both Eddie and Beverly with confusion, “who’s Muh- Mike? And why haven’t I he- heard about him before?” Bill wasn’t exactly sure why Eddie had only told Bev about this person. He decided to assume there was some reason behind it, he must be really special if they felt they had to wait to tell him.

“Oh, uh…” Eddie was the first to answer, he and Bev looking to each other with a certain look that seemed to read, ‘where do we begin?’

Bill found it odd, as usually they always knew what to say. This time, however, they both seemed to be at a loss for words. It almost made the situation awkward, and he decided to take back his question. “You guys do- don’t have to talk about it if y- you don’t want to, I w- was just curious.”

Bill’s stutter had improved over the years, unfortunately for Bill it still lingered. However, his friends were kind about it. They never pushed him to finish a word or try to speak for him. Especially around new people, where his stutter worsened.

Bev and Eddie looked to each other a moment longer before Beverly spoke, “I don’t think we’re allowed to talk about it. At least that’s what somebody said to me when I first asked about it.”

Eddie nodded in agreement, “same here. We can get someone who can talk to you about it? But that’s up to you, Billy.”,

Bill was quite intrigued. What could possibly be so secretive that his friends couldn’t tell him about it? “Uh- um- yeah! Sh- sure. It seems in- interesting.”

Eddie and Bev both nodded looking again to each other before Beverly changed the topic. They talked to each other for hours, before Bev and Eddie both went back to their respective apartments.

-

A few weeks later, Bill had just run out to the store to pick a few things for his apartment. He was walking back to his apartment, letting the warmth of May fill his spirits. As he walked, he was tapped on the shoulder from behind. Bill turned around to face a tall, sort-of lanky gentleman who almost looked familiar. Could it be that kid from his literature class?

No, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t wearing those thick, retro style glasses, for one. His usual thick, unruly mop of hair was nicely styled, and not nearly as frizzy. So who was this guy then, and what did he want from Bill?

“Hello there. Are you Bill Denbrough? Yes? I hope so. I’m Richard Tozier, or Richie depending on who you ask, charmed I’m sure. A little birdie told me you might be interested in a club I’m apart of.” The man, Richie, spoke before Bill could even ask what he needed. Richie’s stance was filled with confidence and self-assurance. He talked and presented himself in such a way that Bill couldn’t help but ask what he meant.

“Uh, y- yeah. I’m B- B- Bill. What is th- this club y- you s- sp- speak of?” Bill mentally curses at himself for stuttering, though he should be somewhat used to it by now. But there’s something about this Richie character, Bill didn’t want to stutter in front of him.

Richie said nothing about Bill’s stutter, this also proved he couldn’t be that kid from lit as he would’ve said something. He spoke smoothly with a charming gleam in his eyes, though the words that came out of his mouth seemed a bit rehearsed. “You see, Bill, I come from a place we call Club Raven. There we take care of pretty boys like yourself and help them to relax. We give them a drink and an ear and help them forget about their cares for a while.”

Bill is handed a black business card with intricate silver details. He looks over the card before looking back at Richie, “s- s- sounds like fu- fun. D- do I just s- sh- show up?”

Richie nodded, flashing a charming smile, “yes, sir. Just walk right in and we’ll get you set up.” He waved goodbye, then walking away. He turned back for a moment, blowing a kiss to Bill with a wink before disappearing behind a corner.

Bill stood there for a moment, frozen. He blinks himself back into reality, swallowing before continuing his walk back to his apartment.

-

“Still other mythology connects the anemone to magical fairies, who were believed to sleep under the petals after they closed at sunset. Perhaps it’s because of this magical and prophetic tales that today in the language of flowers, anemones represent anticipation.” ​

A/N: Hey, here are some fun links that go along with the chapter.

- You and Your Johnson: https://youtu.be/fxVH5sKUlPg

- Ayds Candy: https://youtu.be/yfFs0o6pCxc

- Anemones: https://www.teleflora.com/meaning-of-flowers/anemone